Phantom of the Theater
by ghostwriter1341
Summary: Exactly 123 years have passed since Ciel Phantomhive turned into a demon.Taking residence in New York, he takes a fancy to an actress, whose love for the melancholic and gothic is revealed through her acting. At first he just wants to eat her soul. One kiss and he wants to possess her, body and soul.
1. Act 1

Ciel Phantomhive, a mastermind in the underground business world of the 21st century, sat bored in his richly decorated balcony seat overlooking a grand stage. This 'gothic' theatre was nothing like his own that he built and called the Phantomhouse, but it had its perks. Sebastian stood behind him, as always. They had roamed the world for over a century, and yet nothing Ciel did could satisfy him. He left England shortly before World War I. It was easy to get out of the country when all of its attention was brought to an enemy so bent of domination.

As for those servants left behind, it was no surprise how they ended up. Tanaka lived seven more years after Ciel's 'death' before passing away. The remaining servants fled the Phantomhive Manor, no longer having anything to keep them there. Finny settled down with a young lady in Dublin and lived to see the beginning of World War II. He had three sons and a little girl. His wife joined him a few years later. Mey-Rin fell for a poet from France and also married. She had four girls and a boy. One of her daughters eventually became a spy in World War I and her great-granddaughter a sniper in the following war. As for Bard, he had a less than happy end. He stayed in England, where he became a drunkard, though he retained a sense of honor. He was shot in the heart while trying to defend a young woman in the year 1914. He was close to death anyway.

As for everyone else, they died as well. They moved on with their lives. Elizabeth eventually married another rich gentleman. Lau and Ran-Mao returned to China, never to be heard or seen again. Grell Sutcliff, William T. Speares, Arnold Knox, and Undertaker, who were naturally immortal, continued to work as grim reapers. However, Undertaker was forced to take his business elsewhere. He drew too much suspicion to himself by staying in one place for a long time and looked like he never aged.

Ciel received strange looks on a daily basis. He still dressed the way he did in the 19th century and still retained his boyish looks. Technically, he hadn't changed a bit.

Sebastian remained depressed as well. Then again, if you were bound to a 13 year old brat for the rest of eternity, you'd be depressed too. The only good thing that had happened was that Ciel was more lenient than in the previous centuries. Sure having a butler was nice, but in the modern world, butlers were not so common. Sebastian could come and go as he pleased, unless Ciel absolutely needed him and of course he could never get very far from his master.

The burgundy curtains were drawn back to reveal a cemetery scene. A girl in her twenties glided across the stage in a grey damask floor-length coat. A hood hid her face pretty well. The only features the audience could see of her was her bare hands with black painted nails and her long, wavy, black hair running over her shoulders from her hood. In her arms, she carried a bouquet of red roses. Ciel leaned in closer for a better look. He didn't bother taking up the opera glasses in a glass box in front of him. Something about this actress intrigued him, and he hadn't even seen her face.

The woman lifted her hood. Her electric blue eyes needed no eye shadow to amplify their extraordinary color. Her eyes were so blue one could see them from the audience. Her face was turned to a large fake mausoleum.

"It's been so many years, hasn't it, Damien. Just yesterday we were small children, playing in this cemetery. I've missed you," the girl on stage pretended to fight back tears.

Ciel kept a stoic face, but on the inside he wanted that girl. Her soul was so bloody tasty. He needed her.

"Sebastian, what is that actress' name?" Ciel watched the performance with unyielding attention.

"I believe her name is Tempest Stayne, but I doubt it is her given name. Stayne is not an actual surname, my lord."

"I see." Was all his master said in reply.

Tempest continued, "I thought that if I moved on, or try to, your passing would be easier. But it hasn't." She fell to her knees at the foot of the crypt.

Ciel leaned in further.

"I didn't come here to give a sob story. I came here, because I'm in love with you!" Tempest burst into tears. "I'm in love with the dead." Her voice was lowered to a whisper.

Tempest scanned the audience just a Ciel's eye turned magenta. He sealed the memory of her face into his brain. Ciel kept her frozen, she unwittingly fell in his trap. She was completely mesmerized by him, however she wasn't conscious of it.

She softly shook her head and returned to the scene. "If your spirit is still there, if you can hear me, open these gates, Damien. Let me be with you in death as I was with you in life! Open them!" Tempest leaned against the bars of the crypt. Soft somber music filled the theater.

"_Down to the deepest place, just to find your soul. Down to the deepest pit, will I travel. No longer are you here, amongst the living, but down in the depths you reside. Here amongst the living, I squander, looking for that piece of my broken spirit. I'll find you. I'll find you. I'll go away wherever you have gone. Down to deepest earthen grave, just see your face. Down to the deepest darkness, will I search,_" Tempest belted.

If Ciel hadn't been intrigued with her before, he was now. Her singing voice was melancholic and sweet. She was likened to a gothic angel.

"Sebastian…"

"Yes, my lord."

"I want to meet her. No interruptions. No disturbances. Alone."

"As you wish, my lord," Sebastian turned to fulfill Ciel's orders.


	2. Visitor in the Dressing Room

Tempest tore her eyes away from that deathly eye. This boy was looking, no. Staring would be a better word. He intently watched her performance from his balcony booth. His eye actually changed color! She involuntarily shivered. It took all of her skills and control power to keep it unseen. She had a gothic musical in which she played the leading role. This was no time to be spooked. She tore her eyes away from the balcony, and continued.

Tempest kept her glance away from that particular spot in the theatre. If she had to look up, she picked a different place. It may have been her imagination or nerves that made her see what she saw. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her. But still, throughout the rest of the play Tempest kept her eyes far away from _that _balcony.

Final scene. Damien, the vampire, was about to walk into the sunlight to keep Cassiel from killing Mavis, Tempest's character. In an act of true love, Mavis stabs herself with the knife. Damien runs to her side and cradles her arms as she dies. Cassiel flees like the coward his character is. Mavis and Damien kiss. She begs him to turn her into a vampire, he does so but it is too late. Sunshine pours into the chamber and both perish. There were plenty of wet eyes in the audience.

By the end of the traditional bowing ceremony, Tempest had nearly forgotten about the boy and his strange magenta-colored eye. It wasn't until she saw a tall dark stranger talking with the director. Tempest fled quickly to her dressing room. It was a small one, but it was the only private dressing room the Ravencraft Theater could give her. Not that she was a diva. Tempest locked the door, and crossed herself. It was an old habit she learned from her Catholic grandmother. She stared at the door until she thought she would go insane.

The tall dark stranger frightened her and deeply so. He bore all the characteristics of that boy who stared at her during the whole play. He was with him. Tempest knew it. However, that didn't make matters easier. She had little chance of escape. That stranger could see her making her exit and stop her before she could get far. Not only that, back stage was currently over-crowded. There would be no possible way for her to leave the theater without being noticed. Between the cast and crew, by now there must have been critics and writers coming through the back in mobs. There was but one door in her dressing room. Tempest trapped herself and should those two come looking for her, she'd be cornered.

A soft rapping came at her door. Tempest's heart began beating wildly. She turned the lock and opened the door slowly. The director was wearing a deep blush across her face and her hair looked like it could use a good brushing.

"Miss Magdala? What are you doing here?" Tempest couldn't see anyone behind the director.

"There is someone who wants to see you, Tempest. He liked your performance very much," she replied almost giddily.

Tempest stood in shock. She couldn't mean what she thought she meant?

Miss Magdala disappeared from the doorway and in stepped into view a boy of thirteen or fourteen years. He wore black, from his shoes with the slight lift to the eye patch over one eye. The hair on his head was disheveled but neat kind of way. His one visible cerulean eye stared at her, like he was trying to pierce her soul in two.

"Please, have a seat Miss Stayne. I want to know more about you. You are a very talented actress. One of the best I've seen."

Tempest remained standing. She cast her gaze elsewhere so that she wouldn't see him.

"Don't call me 'Miss Stayne.' It makes me feel old." She stated clearly though she could feel her knees buckling underneath her black and dark green gown.

"Then what would you prefer me to call you?" The boy stepped forward.

Tempest walked backwards to keep the distance between them. "My name is Tempest. You can call me that."

"Tempest." The boy closed his eye, concentrating on how the name seemed to roll of his tongue. "I like that. Very suitable."

"Suitable?"

"Yes, tempest means a storm. Storms are dark, dramatic, and often destructive. But sometimes necessary. Storms bring in more rain and when lightning strikes across the sky, it is quite beautiful. Just like your performance," he took a step closer.

"Thank you, but shouldn't you be getting back to your parents or guardian or something? I'm sure that guy you were with is wondering where you are."

He stopped. "He's elsewhere. For now, you should concentrate on yourself."

Tempest didn't understand why she was so afraid of him. He was just a kid. She was twenty-two years old. Plus, he was super short. He stood tall enough to reach her chest. Tempest was five feet and seven inches.

"What do you want?" She mustered up whatever courage she had left.

The boy chuckled. "Oh, you know…"

In the blink of an eye, Tempest found herself in a chair with the boy grinning evilly in front of her. She shouldn't have been terrified. He was a kid. He couldn't be scary. Not to her. But there was something about him. He wasn't human. No human could move that fast. He was the owner of the eye which watched her so intently during the play. Even when she didn't see it, that thing followed her. Tempest could feel it staring at her the whole time.

His gloved hand brushed the line of her jaw. Tempest shivered slightly and shut her eyes.

"Do I scare you, _Tempest_? Are you afraid of me?" He continued with his slow ministrations.

She didn't bother replying. Tempest couldn't lie. She was afraid of him, but she didn't know why.

"Then allow _this _to be a parting gift," the boy tilted up her face and planted his lips over hers.

Tempest should have definitely stopped him. He was 13! If anyone saw them, Tempest would be leaving the theater in handcuffs. But she was so scared and surprised, that she completely forgot to fight back.

The boy kissed her passionately. Then suddenly disappeared. In a flash, he was gone. Gone like the Ghost of Christmas Past. Tempest turned to the mirror on the dresser. Her cheeks were bright red.

"What on earth just happened?" She asked herself.

"Why don't you tell me?" A familiar voice spoke so coldly that it froze the blood in Tempest's veins.


	3. Warning

Tempest slowly turned to face the other demon in her dressing room. Her blue eyes met with cold, harsh, and vivid black ones.

"Damon." Tempest was hardly surprised at his visit. His 'visits' were becoming more and more frequent and the request was always the same.

"Would you mind telling me who that boy was? You know I'm not fond of other men touching what is mine, even if they look like children." He took a few steps forward. "I'm very possessive."

She quickly turned her back to him, beginning to remove the stage make-up.

"That boy was just a fan. Perhaps too enthusiastic is all? I doubt I'll see him again," she dabbed the moist sponge against her face.

Damon was against her back in the next second. His arms wrapped around her waist tightly. Tempest could feel his hot breath against her neck. The blood in her veins went cold at the touch of his lips against her ear as he whispered.

"That _boy_ wasn't human, and you know it. Are you planning to leave me? Have you been plotting to send me back to hell?" Damon's fingers made quick work of her hair. The thick locks of her raven-hair were suddenly knotted around his digits.

"No," Tempest replied instantly, "This is the first time I ever saw him."

"If you weren't speaking the truth, you know I'd pluck the eyes right out from your skull, you know? I didn't have to give you them. I did it out of the goodness of my non-beating heart," his cruel voice chuckled at his last statement.

Tempest's blood began to boil. Damon had no heart or soul and certainly knew nothing of kindness. The both of them knew _exactly_ knew why he restored Tempest's eyesight. "My mother gave you her soul so I could be able to see again. Your contract was terminated once you devoured her. I have nothing to do you."

Damon's fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her head back.

"Oh contraire, _mon cher._ Even if the contract between your mother and I is terminated, that doesn't mean I can't stick around for you."

Tempest mustered up what courage she could find and say the words she repeated each night. "What you want and what I want are two _very _different things. Every night for the past six years, you've asked me for one thing. And every night I give you the same exact answer. You can go somewhere else to find a woman of your own. I refuse."

Damon pushed her to the floor. Tempest glared at him. She was fearful, yet she had least had to look brave.

"One of these days, _Tempest_," he spoke harshly, "you'll give in. I know you will. I can extend your life as long as I want. If you wish to spend the rest of eternity haunted by me, then so be it. Just know this. Everywhere you go, no matter how far, in every shadow, I'll be there, watching you."

Damon vanished in a flash of smoke. Tempest continued to lay on the floor, unable to move for the longest time. There had to be a way to get away from the likes of him, of Damon that is. She couldn't stand being so afraid of what he'd do and just being scared overall. Her mother would tell her to stand up for herself. But how could she? She just a human and Damon was a demon. A very powerful demon at that. There was no chance of survival in hand to hand combat and no mortal weapon could kill him.

Tempest pushed herself up and went to the dresser and mirror. She cleaned off the make-up. She changed out of the costume and by the time she left the dressing room, there was hardly anyone left. The cast and crew probably went out to the after-show party. The reporters most likely followed.

She carried her bag to her burgundy Oldsmobile in the back. Tempest drove herself to the neat little flat she owned. The water didn't always run the way it should and she once found one of the old tenants under the sink, a mouse to be more specific. Other than that, the flat wasn't entirely horrid. It had a balcony, running water, working electricity and gas, and it was free of cockroaches. Mice weren't usually a problem, except for that one.

The walls were painted egg-shell white, but Tempest was too afraid to paint over them. The living room was bare save for the black couch and glass coffee table. Dropping the bag by the door, Tempest locked and bolted the door before settling herself comfortably on the couch. She kicked off her shoes and laid on her back. She was too tired to move. Around midnight, her eyes felt heavy and she drifted uneasily into sleep. Her thoughts were not only preoccupied by Damon, but also by the boy who kissed her so unexpectedly.


	4. The Young Master's Failure

Ciel begrudgingly stormed out of the Raven Theater. Sebastian waited loyally by the black stretch limo. Without a word, he opened the door for his master. Ciel climbed in and then Sebastian sat by his side, closing the door behind him.

"I told the driver to head home when you exited. How did her soul taste, my lord?" Sebastian very well Ciel had not devoured the actress' soul. But he enjoyed annoying his master. Ciel's irritated face was one of the few things that amused him.

Ciel didn't say anything. He glared out of the tinted window.

"I take it she was not to your liking?" Sebastian smirked.

Ciel slammed his fist against the limo window.

"No, I couldn't even get a taste. I barely got my hands on her when another entered the dressing room. I fled, but not because I'm a coward. I'll wait patiently until I can get her truly alone. Find out when she's performing next. I don't intend for her soul to slip so easily out of my hands next time."

Sebastian bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."

Ciel sat alone at his desk, fingers wrapped around a tea cup handle. The contents of the same cup was earl grey tea, naturally. Ciel's taste varied very little from the time he was human. The room's light fixtures were dimmed to a low glimmer. He sipped quietly, staring out into the near darkness, contemplating, wondering. Wondering why that actress' soul seemed to call out to him. Contemplating

how he would obtain it.

The kiss of death was an obvious choice. He didn't kiss Tempest to show any sort of affection. Her soul would have easily passed through her mouth through her living breath. If it hadn't been for that other demon, Ciel would be full by now. Instead, he was sitting in the dark, hungry for that girl's soul, yet he didn't completely understand the urge to consume it so badly. The nameless demon was a cause for great concern for him. Ciel also didn't understand why another demon should make him so anxious.

He glanced at the play bill, where Tempest's photograph was displayed promptly. She wore that hooded coat and her brilliant blue eyes practically glowed like burning embers. Ciel's feminine fingers traced her eyes.

"I intend to find what you're hiding behind those beautiful blue eyes of yours, Miss Stayne. I may not have gotten a taste of your soul, but I don't give up that easily. I always get what I want." He took the play bill and put it in one of his desk drawers. "Until then, rest well."

There was a quiet rap at his door. He shut the desk drawer just as Sebastian entered. In his arms he carried an aged folder filled with papers.

"Just as you ordered, sir. All the information I could dig up on Miss Stayne. I think you'll find it very interesting," Sebastian handed Ciel the folder.

"That was fast." He blandly commented.

"There was but one name I was searching for and there weren't too many women who changed their names to _Tempest Stayne_ after all. It was very simple a task, my lord. A girl with black hair, blue eyes, in her early twenties. Granted New York City is one of the world's largest cities, cutting it down to just a few was easy with a few criteria in mind."

Ciel nodded and opened the folder. He quietly read it to himself as Sebastian stood and waited for further orders. Tempest Stayne's real name was Emilie McIntyre. She was the only daughter of a single mom in Brooklyn. But what really caught Ciel's attention was something in her medical history.

At the age of seven years old, Tempest, or rather Emilie, was pronounced legally blind. At the age of sixteen, she was miraculously cured without any surgery. It was as if she woke up one morning and she could see again.

Around that time, her mother, Christina McIntyre, died unexpectedly. The coroner who performed the autopsy couldn't explain the mother's death. It appeared that she suddenly died in her sleep. Carbon monoxide was suspected, but there wasn't any sign of that type of poisoning either in the mother or in the child since they lived in the same house.

Ciel closed the folder, finding out all that he wanted to know. He closed his hands together and rest his chin on top of them.

"When is her next performance?"

Sebastian chuckled. "Getting a little obsessed, aren't we, young master?"

Ciel glared at him. "I believe your job isn't to question me, it's to obey me. So I'll ask this again, when is her next performance?"

"That I can't tell you," Sebastian lowered his head in apology. "It is difficult to find out the schedule of an actress in this day and age. She isn't listed in any of the other smaller theaters and it doesn't appear that she is a regular performer anywhere."

"Hn," was all Ciel responded with.

"However, perhaps, if you want so desperately to see her again, why wait? Why not attack her when she least expects it? When she is off guard and there isn't anyone to disturb you. You could have her soul and be on your way."

Ciel thought about Sebastian's suggestion. He never was a patient person. And if he could catch her alone, then he could eat her soul in peace.

"Very well," he looked up at Sebastian, "Tomorrow morning have the car ready to go. I want to observe where she lives. Do you have her address?"

Sebastian pulled out a plain white piece of cardstock from the inner pocket of his tailcoat. "Need you even ask?" He handed his master the card.


	5. Journey to the Cemetery

Tempest stared at herself in the mirror while brushing her long black hair. Her gaze was fixated on her blue eyes. Those remarkably beautiful and cursed eyes. If she didn't have them, her mother would be alive. She wouldn't have to live alone. She wouldn't have to keep looking over her shoulders for Damon to pop up out the darkness and ask for her hand. She changed her name just so people would not know that she was the same blind girl who suddenly got her sight back without surgery. Tempest Stayne may have been a little too _creative,_ but no one could make the connection with Emilie McIntyre. And it seemed to fit.

Damon gave her sight back to her. That should have been the end of it. He got what he wanted from her mother and the contract should have been the end of it. If Tempest's mother knew that Damon would become obsessed with her daughter, she would have never sold her soul, even if was to help Tempest see again.

Now, not only did the actress have to deal with Damon, there was another demon to contend with. Diminutive, child-like, and yet imposing at the same moment. She never did catch his name.

Tempest put down the hair brush on the dresser. She looked over her outfit one more time. A dark gray, sleeveless blouse with raw-edged ruffles down the front. Over that, she wore a black jacket and matching pants and laced up knee-high boots. She dressed as if she was going to a funeral. In a way, she was. Tempest was going out to see her mother's grave, like she did after every performance. Her mother had always been supportive of her ambition to be an actress. Even in death, she deserved to hear about Tempest's success and growth as an actress. Tempest knew from the day that she was meant to be an actress. And even when she blind, she let her lack of sight stop her. It was difficult, to say the least.

Now she was growing in popularity. The plays she performed in were small time, but if she could perform in the Phantom House, her future would be set. Alas, no one knew who owned the theater and if they'd even let her perform there. Rumors said that the owner, whoever she or he may be, was very picky on what was to be presented on the stage. Rumors also said that they watched everything from a private booth so high up, no one could see who was inside.

Tempest exited the apartment, bolting the door behind her. As usual the Brooklyn Bridge was busy, packed on both ends with cars like tuna in a can. The day seemed cloudy, gloomy even. But still, that stopped very few people. No matter the weather, New Yorkers had places to be and tourists to direct. The city and all its surrounding areas never slept. Everything and everyone was always busy. Tempest was unusually patient. She didn't have to rush. In fact, she enjoyed taking her time getting there. She had a lot on her mind.

She finally arrived at the Evergreens Cemetery, which was situated between Brooklyn and Queens*. Christina McIntyre would be resting in one of the most recent plots in the front. Tempest sat down on the ground before it, not really caring if she got grass stains on her pants.

The headstone was simple. It was all that could be afforded. Her mom's co-workers helped pay for the funeral and the local church helped too. Back then, Tempest worked part-time at a restaurant. She was paying her way for a chance to go to college. She would have gladly paid to give her mother better funeral, but she couldn't. Too many people insisted on paying for the funeral and that she should focus on getting into college. The headstone read "Christina McIntyre June 27 1960 to April 4 2006. Devoted Mother." No decorative carvings. No special words. It was plain granite and nothing made it stand out above the rest.

"Hey, Mom." Tempest weakly smiled. "It's been a while hasn't it? I should probably change the flowers soon. They look really wilted."

Tempest gingerly touched one of the daffodils in her mom's favorite vase.

"I think I did very well in my performance last night. You would have really liked it. You love tragedies. I don't think there was a dry eye in the house," she chuckled.

She paused for a moment of thought. Thinking about the Ravencraft Theater, the image of the demon-child popped inside her head again. It wasn't that she was afraid of him anymore, no. Well, there was a little bit. Okay, she was still afraid of him. But there was something else. She didn't want to sound like a crappy romance or one of Meyer's terribly written vampire novels, but Tempest couldn't get him out of her skull. She wasn't in love with the guy nor was she becoming obsessed. Goodness no.

That demon-child just…she didn't know what to think of him.

"I know you didn't mean for all this to happen to me, Mom. You were so desperate to help me see again. You gave up your own life, not even save my own, but just so I could see again. I wouldn't have minded being blind for all my life. I managed just fine. Now I don't have just one demon to worry about, now I have two! This new one scares because he's no different from Damon. I'm lost and weak without you here."

Tempest heard footsteps in the grass. She assumed that they belonged to others with relatives buried there too. Then, she felt something. Something dark and encroaching. She didn't bother to look or try to glance in the direction it was coming from. The wind, coincidently, picked up.

"A storm is coming, Miss Stayne," the young demon spoke.

Tempest half expected it to be Damon, she was wrong. She looked from the corner of her eye without budging an inch to see the boy approaching. He wore a long black wool coat and a top hat. He stuck out even more than Tempest did.

Without a thought, Tempest rose to her feet quickly and sped in the opposite direction. She didn't look back. She just ran like her life depended on it. And in this case, it might have.


	6. The Chase

Tempest ran south, deeper and deeper into the older parts of the graveyard. She didn't bother looking over her shoulder to see the demon following her. She didn't need to. She knew very well that he was following her behind her, at an agonizing pace just to taunt her. She looked upwards and saw that the sky was growing darker. It was noon! There was only one explanation. And that explanation was a walking right behind her!

Tempest ran faster than before, the demon's dark presence closing in on her. She saw metal gates leading out into the street. Her ticket out of here!

She made a break for it. Her eyes were glued to the gate and just as she was nearly there, it slammed shut in her face. Tempest groaned and slammed herself against it. She pounded her fists against the bars. She rattled the gates as hard as she could with all her might. They wouldn't budge open.

"Not now. Please, not now!" She screamed. Tempest turned her head over her shoulder. The demon was even closer now.

He smirked as he walked in between the tombstones like he was on a lovely stroll through the park. The blood froze in her veins. Her eyes darted for another exit.

Tempest ran from the gate, turning west. The demon followed her at his unusually slow pace. He seemed to be enjoying the game of cat and mouse. They found themselves a small group of trees. For a moment, he thought he lost her. But then he remembered he was a demon. He didn't need to see her to find her. He inhaled deeply and his ears perked up. The demon heard his prey yelp and then a thud. She hit the ground.

When he found her, she lay in the dirt, her boot strings knotted up in a bush. Tempest tried in vain to loosen the strings, but it was no use. She either had to stay there and meet her fate or take off her shoes completely. Either way, Ciel would get what he wanted.

"You're in quite the predicament aren't we?" He mocked.

She glared at him. She suddenly found some courage. "Shut up, you prick! I'm not going to be demon food!"

Ciel was surprised by the sudden burst of anger and courage. He at first thought that the girl was a timid little thing. Something changed her.

"What an abrupt change in personality, girl. I thought you'd give up a lot sooner." He approached closer as she continued to struggle against the bush's branches.

"I won't say that I'm not scared. I'm scared like a little girl. I really am," she spoke honestly as she yanked harder.

"Honesty is the best policy." Ciel was a few feet away now. "But you didn't answer my question. Why did you so suddenly change? People rarely change. I'm living proof. I haven't changed in over one-hundred years. What makes you so different?"

Tempest stopped. "My mom wouldn't want me to go down without fighting. I'm done with being targeted by the likes of your kind. You and Damon can go to hell!"

"Is Damon the demon I sensed when I was in your dressing room?"

Tempest only nodded. She turned her attention back to freeing herself. She had almost freed her boot when the demon appeared next to her. His magenta eye looked down at her with a hungry look.

"I can see why another would want your soul. It's so delicious I can practically taste from here."

"For your information, he's not interested in my soul. He already had my mom's! He just wants me, body and soul."

Ciel thought for a moment. Perhaps there was another way to get the girl's soul after all.

"And what if I can solve your problems for you? What would you say to that?"

"If you mean a contract, you can forget it! My mom died just for a pair of eyes. I'd rather be Damon's sex toy than be devoured by you! Actually… neither one of you is going to lay a finger one me!" Tempest swung her leg towards him. He moved out of the way with barely a hair out of place.

"Then your mother didn't make a good contract. I can offer you much more. Not only will I remove this Damon from your life, I can make a star."

Tempest's eyes went wide for a moment. "A star?"

"Isn't that what you want? You're an actress. You want to have your name in lights. To be adored by millions. To own the things you could only hope for and dream about. Isn't that what you want?"

Tempest didn't need to think. She knew her answer.

"Yes, I am an actress, but the last thing I'll do is sell my soul to the devil! I can get famous on my own. Without _your_ help!"

"Then I'll be doing this the old fashioned way," Ciel seized one of her arms and pulled to her feet.

A normal 13 year old might not have been able to do that, especially if they were his size. But considering that he was a demon, logic was thrown out the window. He threw her into the trunk of the nearest tree. She groaned on impact and struggled to get back to her feet. Ciel seized her arms and pinned them above her head. Tempest struggled against him, but it was pointless. Despite his size, he was supernaturally strong.

"You could have died quickly. You could have taken my offer and be famous. Now you're going to die nice and slowly and no one will remember your name," he spoke with venom in his tone. This girl had been driving him nuts the past twenty-four hours. The sooner he could eat her soul, the sooner he could return to normal.

Tempest looked away. Ciel reached out for her face, taking her chin in a firm grip. He stared at her eyes. She was truly terrified. Her supernatural blue eyes captured his attention. It was a shame to let them go to waste. Her breathing became rapid and a tear trickled down her face.

"Please." She whispered. Tempest had the idea that there was an ounce of mercy left in him. She was completely aware that he was going to eat her soul and yet she tried to talk him out of it with begging and pleading.

"Death will be swift, that is the only mercy I will give you." He leaned forward to administer the kiss of death.

Tempest shut her eyes. The demon didn't vanish like before. His cold lips tasted and felt like stone against her warm ones. If there was any chance of an afterlife if one was killed by a demon, then Tempest wouldn't be so scared to die at this moment. But when your soul is devoured by a demon, that's it. No chance of heaven or hell. Game over. Do not pass go.

Just as she thought it was the end, Tempest realized that she didn't feel anything. She didn't feel any weakness. She couldn't feel her soul being ripped out of her body. Was this demon just playing with her?

It took several minutes before either of them realized that he was only kissing her. Ciel had used this technique often. He was a natural, according to Sebastian. He mastered that technique. He should have fully eaten Tempest's soul by now. He pulled away quickly, puzzled as to what was wrong. He grabbed a hand full of Tempest's hair and pulled her closer to him.

"Why can't I devour your soul? I've done this hundreds of times. It should be mere child's play by now!"

"Maybe you're in love me," Tempest snickered venomously.

Ciel kissed her again, just to double check. Still nothing. He wrapped his arms around her. He did this not out of affection, but keep her from struggling. He let go after several minutes. He dropped her and stood away as she gasped for air.

"Don't be mistaken, Miss Stayne. This isn't over. I'll have your soul yet." He stormed away, frustrated an confused.


	7. Beginnings of Denial

Ciel paced his study at a furious speed. Sebastian feared that he would burn a hole into the floor. Which would mean more work for him…bullocks.

"What is wrong with me?" Ciel shouted. "It should have been easy as…"

"Cake, sir?" Sebastian held out a lemon cheesecake with whipped cream on a silver platter.

Without so much as a thank you, Ciel snatched it from the butler's hands and put it on his desk. He ate it angrily. With every mouthful, his resentment grew. Stealing the girl's soul should have been like eating this cake. Simple, easy, uncomplicated. But with the way things were going, Ciel joked to himself that she may not even have a soul to eat.

In record time, he finished eating the cheesecake. Sebastian dutifully picked up the platter and was about to leave the study when his master posed a question.

"Is it possible for someone, a human, to live without a soul?" He folded his hands together and pressed them to his lips.

"Quite impossible, young master. The only beings capable of living without a soul are demons and death gods. Even angels can survive without one, but they don't usually stay on earth very long…" He stopped when he saw Ciel's eye begin to twitch. Angels were a forbidden topic in the master's household. A run-in with a certain bi-polar, androgynous angel from so many years ago still left scars in Ciel's mind.

Sebastian bowed. "Begging your pardon, sir. I didn't mean to put salt over your wounds."

"Don't let it happen again." He ordered.

"Yes, master."

Ciel stood up from his desk. He walked over to the small fire place, focusing his glare on the burning fire inside it. Sebastian waited for several minutes before Ciel said anything.

"Do _you_ know what's going on?" Ciel had rarely asked questions of his butler. It was only when he absolutely needed information that he did so. It had been nearly a full twenty-four hours since he lay on an eye on a certain actress and both his attempts to eat her soul failed. This was driving him mad.

"Forgive this boldness, master, but, perhaps you're in love?"

Ciel spun his heels, his magenta eye glaring at the butler now.

"Excuse me?" He hissed.

"Forgive me," Sebastian bowed again. "But it seems to be the only logical explanation."

"Me? In love with that…that _girl? _Don't be ridiculous, Sebastian." He turned back to the burning fire place.

"I'm not saying she is your soul mate, sir. Things such as that sound too much like a poor plot to a cheesy novel. Destiny is in one's own hands. I am merely proposing an explanation. You have attempted twice now to steal her soul, and have failed. She is not marked by another demon; we both would have sensed that by now. And there is no possible way for her to remain a human if she didn't have a soul. Something about this actress is appealing to whatever is left of your cold, un-beating, blackened heart, sir. Forgive my boldness, again."

Ciel grumbled something under his breath that not even Sebastian could make out. Most likely a collection of curses. He thought for a moment. He couldn't be in love. That was out of the question. There had to be a more sensible explanation. However, he couldn't find any, but he wouldn't admit that Sebastian was right either. Though, something did draw him towards Tempest. No way he could lie himself out of that. Whatever was left of his humanity, found Tempest to be a source of consolation of some kind. He had yet to put his finger on it. But this obsession was upsetting him deeply. It was time to either end it sooner rather than later or live with it until the day she died. And Ciel wasn't the type of demon to be patient.

"Sebastian," he unveiled his eye which had the contract symbol embedded, "I order you to bring her to me at once. Kill that other demon if you must, just bring her here, alive."

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian finally turned to leave the room.

When he shut the door behind him, he chuckled softly.

"I haven't seen you obsessed, young master. I must say it is amusing to see you squirm like this all because of a woman. Imagine what Elizabeth might say if she saw you now."


	8. Entrapped

Tempest threw off her clothes and boots the moment she stepped into her flat. She made a break for the bathroom and turned on the shower. The temperature didn't matter to her. All she wanted to do was scrub the demon off her skin. She scrubbed vigorously, hoping to get the scent off of her before Damon could smell it. But that wasn't her top priority. She just wanted to make herself clean, to get rid of the memory.

Looking at her mother's grave made her feel weak and useless. She died and Tempest lived in fear. If her mother could see her now, she would be highly disappointed. Her mother was fierce and strong, unlike her daughter. Tempest didn't have to live in the dark like she did years ago. She could see and she could fight. As she ran from the demon, Tempest scolded herself. It was then that she decided that enough was enough. As long as there were demons haunting around, she wouldn't let them get the better of her. She may have been afraid, but the least she could do was stand up for herself. No more running. No more hiding. No more being scared. She would find a way to get rid of them both.

When she stepped out of the shower, Tempest's skin was red and sore. She walked to her bedroom which was literally two steps away from the bathroom. A white towel was wrapped tightly around her form. At first, she didn't sense anything wrong. The light flickered on without her even flipping the switch.

Not to her surprise, Damon was sitting sideways at her desk chair, a perverse grin spread across his face. The disgusting look in his eyes made Tempest beyond uncomfortable. He removed the towel shielding her naked form with his eyes.

"Did I catch you a bad time?" He snickered.

Tempest glared at him. Step one: show Damon that he didn't have control over her life. This step would have been a lot easier if her knees weren't trembling underneath her. Her arms pulled the towel closer, her fingers firmly clutched onto the fabric for dear life.

"Get out." She ordered as she stared the demon in the eyes. Tempest mentally patted her back for not stammering.

Damon stood up and approached her. Tempest planted her feet on the ground and kept eye contact. He reached out to grab her chin, pulling her face closer to his. Tempest did her best to keep her trembling down to a minimum.

"Why is your skin so red?" He slid his free hand down through her wet hair and brought a lock of it to his nose. "Did you just take a shower?"

"You tell me. I'm dressed only in a towel and my hair is wet. I certainly didn't just go jogging in the nude."

She yelped when Damon's hand grabbed her hair tightly.

"I like it better when you're more submissive. You should know you're place by now."

Tempest managed to pull away from. She surprised herself at her new found strength.

"Yes, well, I've had it with you, Damon. I'm not going to be some doll you can play with. I'm done with this cat and mouse game. You don't own me and you never will!"

She flinched just slightly when Damon's eyes turned to a deep shade of red. His grin fell to a deep frown, lips pursed. His hands tightened into fists.

"I really don't like this new attitude of yours,_ Emilie_. Like I said before, I prefer you to be submissive. Whatever gave you the idea that you can stand up to me, forget it now and I maybe merciful."

He never used her real name until now. He'd always referred to her as Tempest.

Damon took only one step towards her when his sensitive ears picked up the sound of knocking at the front door. He sensed a fellow demon on the other side of it. His glare darkened as he stood Tempest down.

"Were you expecting someone?" He sneered.

Tempest shook her head. "No, of course not."

"Then you won't have an issue if I kill them, will you?" Without another word, Damon marched to the front door.

Tempest followed, though she didn't know why on earth she would do such a thing. She watched as Damon opened the door. A tall, black-haired man stood in the doorway dressed in a butler's uniform.

"You?" Tempest blurted out.

Damon glanced at her from over his shoulder and then back at the butler before him.

"I apologize for the intrusion, Miss Stayne," the butler spoke directly with Tempest, "but I have orders from my master to deliver you to him. However, I see that you are in a predicament yourself."

Tempest's cheeks burned a new shade of red. She was still dressed only in a flimsy towel. At least this other demon wasn't staring at her like a piece of meat. His red eyes passed over her quickly, but barely took serious notice of her lack of clothing.

Damon blocked the butler's view of her.

"You're just going to have to tell your _master_ that she's spoken for," Damon hissed.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir. He's become quite obsessed to the point where it is just too amusing. As much as I love to watch him be frustrated and driven half mad over a woman, I have my orders and as his butler I must perform my duties with speed and attentiveness. He is not a patient master either." He stepped inside the apartment. The butler strangely enough brought with him a polished, silver platter. An odd weapon of choice.

He glanced around the flat, taking notes. He turned his attention at last to Tempest who stood awkwardly in her towel, knees knocking together, though she did her best to hide it.

"I suggest finding a place to hide for the time being, miss. My master wouldn't want any harm to come to you, at least, not yet," the butler added with a wicked grin.


	9. Things You See in the Graveyard

Tempest ran to the bedroom before any sparks were sent flying. She locked and barricaded the door with her desk chair. The towel fell to her ankles. Tempest whipped up some jeans laying on top of the hamper, not bothering to put on any underwear. She rummaged through her dresser to find a bra. At least if she managed to escape, she'd be half-way decent.

There was a loud bang and glass scattering. Tempest slipped it on along with a dirty t-shirt. She grabbed her wallet and a pair of tennis shoes. Tempest tore open the dark curtains and opened the window which led to the fire escape. More crashes escaped through the bedroom door, she'd deal with the mess later. She climbed through the window and tossed her shoes down below. Not bother to close the window, Tempest climbed down bare-footed. Her wallet she clumsily stuffed into her front pocket as she sped down the metal stairway.

As she climbed down, the sounds of the epic battled could even be heard half way down. Tempest reached the ground just as the fighting died down. She found her shoes at the base of a dumpster. She shoved her feet inside them, hoping on one foot at a time. In the corner of her eye, she spotted a dark shadow lingering outside her apartment window. Tempest looked up. She expected Damon to be standing there, watching her trying to flee. Instead, it was the butler. He barely had a scratch on him, save a cut across his left cheek. He was obviously more powerful than Damon. Which meant Tempest should probably start running...now.

Tempest ran as fast as her legs could carry her, running solely on adrenaline, which wouldn't last very long. She stayed away from the shadows and stuck to the heavier crowds of Brooklyn. She left behind her cell phone, her house keys, and her car. Finding a cab in Brooklyn would be like finding a needle in a hay stack. The cabs were slow. There wasn't enough time to wait around. More importantly, hailing a cab from the middle of the side-walks would be like putting a flashing neon sign next to her, making it easier for that demonic butler to find her.

Tempest slowed to a walk, but found herself entirely lost. She'd never explored this part of town. Not looking where she was going, Tempest found herself in a dark, scary part of Brooklyn, but not the kind one might think of. She had wandered into a different kind of scary. As in a wrought iron gate that led to an old, abandoned graveyard.

No one was around. Street lamps were flickering on. The sun was setting behind the horizon of the tall buildings. All of this added another level on a scare-o-meter, especially when a single pair of footsteps echoed from around the corner.

Tempest pushed open the gate and hid behind the largest tombstone she could find. The footsteps grew closer and closer. Her heart began pounding inside her ribcage so loud she was afraid he might hear it. She clamped her hand over her mouth to keep herself from breathing too loudly. A dog barked.

"Oh shut up, Rufus! I don't know what you're barking at, you dumb dog!" A woman shouted.

Tempest sighed with relief. The woman with her dog disappeared around the corner. Tempest crawled onto her knees and looked over the top of the tombstone. She remained still, looking and waiting for the butler to pop out of the shadows. She waited there for so long the fabric of her jeans became soaked with the wet grass underneath.

When the coast seemed to be clear, Tempest rose to her feet. She looked around her in the fading sunlight. The graveyard was small and ill-cared for. The grave markers were old, the monuments giving away slowly to time and decay. Rain washed away many of the faces of the monuments. To the left of the graveyard was an empty lot and to her right a park. There were two willows, the only things that seemed to be thriving among the weeds above and the dead bodies down below.

The street lamps grew brighter as the sky was drawn into darkness. Tempest could feel the temperature dropping. She wasn't helpless. But she had to get some place warm soon. A twig snapped, drawing her attention to the direction of the sound. There wasn't anything there. Tempest could sense eyes watching her, but from where?

She stood still. A cold hand ran down her neck. Tempest spun on her heels, nearly tripping over her own two feet. Her eyes strained in the shadows. She still couldn't see anything.

"Miss Stayne, it would be best if you surrendered quickly. I'd hate to keep the master waiting." The butler's voice echoed throughout the graveyard.

Tempest saw a black shadow moving against the shadows. She froze instantly. A smaller figure ran a few feet away from the first shadow. It turned its head and a pair of yellow eyes glanced at her. It was only a black cat. The cat hissed at her, then scampered away. Tempest kept a look out for the butler. The cat disappeared behind a large tombstone. It hissed again and then started screaming. Foolishly, Tempest followed the sounds of the cat, hoping that it wasn't in trouble and mentally slapped herself for being dumb enough to walk further into a cemetery when there was a demon on the hunt for her.

"Such soft paws," the butler spoke.

Curiously, Tempest carefully peeked around the tombstone only to find the supposedly terrifying demon assaulting the feline and caressing its paws. She stood there watching him, confused beyond belief. This was a WTF moment for sure.

The cat managed to claw its way out of the butler's grasp and ran for the nearest bush. The butler spotted her in the corner of his eye. He smirked.

"My, my, have you changed your mind so suddenly?" He rose to his feet.

Tempest turned on her heels too quickly and slipped on the slick grass. The butler's master was right. It had stormed. Tempest lost her footing and her abdomen collided with another tombstone. She heard the devasting sound of her own ribs crunch with a sickening crack. Like that, Tempest fell backwards into the waiting arms of the butler. She held her stomach while she struggled as she with what was left of her strength. The lower half of her abdomen were in excruciating pain. There was a strong possibility that she had broken some of her bones when she fell onto the tombstone with such force.

"The young master won't be pleased with this at all. You've gone and hurt yourself. You may even have broken your ribs. That could lead to some serious medical reprocussions. Oh well, you won't be fighting the way home, will you now? Not with your bones broken. Wouldn't want give yourself anymore injuries?"

"Bastard." Tempest muttered as she fell unconscious from the pain.


	10. Familiar Face

A bell rang somewhere within an ear shot. Tempest opened her eyes carefully, remembering very well the last thing she saw before falling unconscious. That devious, sadistic demon of butler was practically laughing at her for running into a tombstone and injuring herself. Was it really her fault that the grass was so wet that she slipped and fell?

The ceiling above her was heavy burgundy curtain. Confused, Tempest shifted her head to her left and then to her right. She was lying on a large canopy bed. Her head had been carefully rested on the softest pillow she had ever slept on. The covers placed over were warm, like she'd been laying in them for a while.

A door opened, but Tempest could not see who or what was entering the room. Footsteps swiftly made their way to the bed. The butler smirked at Tempest's conscious face.

"Ah, you're finally awake, Miss Stayne. The young master has grown even more impatient." He drew the canopy curtains further apart.

"H-how long have I been unconscious?"

"Three days." He placed a set of clothes at the foot of the bed.

"Three days!" Tempest sat up immediately.

A sharp pain in her abdomen sent her reeling back in pain. She had forgotten in that moment of surprise the injury to lower torso. She lifted up the nightgown she was wearing to see the extent of her injuries. Long white strips had been wrapped around her torso where she fallen on the tombstone. There was this massive pressure coming from the main site of the wound. She leaned against the headboard, groaning.

"I almost forgot. You are a very lucky girl. You managed to crack two ribs on your right side and bruise your stomach. We even had to pull a few strings to make sure you hadn't caused too much internal damage."

"What kind of strings?" She clutched her side. "And who on earth undressed me and put _this _on? I distinctly remember _not _wearing this when I fell unconscious."

"The kind of strings that will have a licensed medical doctor not think twice when a thirteen year old boy brings in a woman with blunt-force trauma to her abdomen to a hospital in the middle of the night," the butler chuckled.

"And this nightgown?" Tempest continued with her questions.

"The same kind of strings that make a nurse come in every other hour for three days to change the same woman's bedding, clothes, and perform other tasks without questioning as long as she's paid a handsome amount of money."

"You sound like a two man mafia."

The butler smirked. "My dear, we would make the mafia wish they were us. How do you suppose Al Capone got away with so many murders and yet he was only arrested for tax evasion?"

Tempest's jaw dropped. "You guys…did that?"

"When you're immortal, you may find that you have a lot of time on your hands. Of course, one has to be careful when and where to put one's hands in. Never know how it will affect the future."

"What are those clothes for?" She motioned to the foot of the bed.

"For you, of course. The self-induced injury to your stomach was non-life threatening. You didn't even puncture a blood vessel. The doctor has given you a bill of good health and so… the young master would like to meet you in person." The butler smiled like he said something funny.

Tempest wasn't so much afraid of him anymore, not after what she saw in the cemetery. This butler was just irritating.

"And I suppose he's going to try to eat my soul again, isn't he?" She crossed her arms over her chest, being careful of her injury.

"Strong possibility, Miss Stayne."

"And attempting to run is out of the question as well?"

"You may have suffered only a minor injury, but you're in no condition to run anywhere. More importantly, you wouldn't have a clue to get your way back to your apartment. You don't know where you are. You were unconscious at the time. You could be in England for all you know." The butler explained.

"So I'm to have my soul ripped out of me with no chance of survival or escape. Lovely," Tempest scowled.

"Has my master ever even succeeded? Your soul is still intact, is it not, Miss Stayne?" Asked the butler.

"Huh?"

"The master has not stopped complaining on how he has yet to obtain your soul. Believe me, he is no amateur. He knows how to pluck a ripe, juicy soul from its fruitful tree. He usually dines on those who won't be missed or the dregs of society, however. You…are different. When he was watching your performance, the young master could not take his eyes off you. He so desired your soul. And I can see why." He came close to ear and whispered, "I can taste that sweet, vibrate spirit of yours off your body. The young master has good taste I suppose."

Something sharp and pointy came flying through the air. It might have hit him in the ear had he not foreseen it coming, even with his back turned. The butler with his supernatural speed caught a dart between just two fingers. He seemed skilled at catching. Almost like he'd done it before.

"That's enough, Sebastian." The butler's master finally entered the room.

The one called Sebastian back away slowly from the bed, the dart still betwixt his middle and index finger. He bowed deeply from the waist.

"My deepest apologies, my lord. It won't happen again."

"Leave, now. That's an order." The master glared at his butler.

"Yes, my lord." And with that Sebastian stepped out of the room.

Tempest felt her heart beginning to race again. The demon, who apparently still did not have a name, stood there. He didn't so much as look at her. She was finally completely vulnerable. There was no chance of her escaping or resisting. Why would he just stand there?

Nerve-wracked out of her mind, she ran her hand through her air. It was then that the demon looked in her general direction. She saw his eye grow wide for a moment like he had seen a ghost. Tempest didn't know what had gotten his attention so quickly.

"Aren't you going to eat my soul?" She asked. The demon suddenly seemed less interested in soul for some concern he had yet to disclose.

He stared at her, his cerulean eye staring at her. His brow was raised in surprise; his mouth was gaping ever so slightly. His pallor turned a shade whiter from surprise.

"Do you have relatives in Great Britain," he asked finally.


	11. Familiar Laughter

"E-excuse me?" Tempest released her hair.

"Do you have relatives in Great Britain, yes or no?" He repeated. His small fists tightened.

"Not that I know of. My mom traveled there before I was born, but she never liked to talk about it much."

Tempest barely finished her sentence when the demon stormed out the room.

"Sebastian! Sebastian!" Ciel ran after the butler.

Sebastian turned to see his master racing after him, an odd look on his face.

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you know what I just saw?" Ciel caught up with him in the middle of the hallway.

Sebastian shook his head. "I wouldn't know, sir. You asked me to leave, remember?"

"Never mind that!" Ciel grabbed Sebastian's tail-coat collar and pulled him closer so that their eyes met.

"That girl bears a strong resemblance to a certain person we know. Someone who is immortal. A man we saw a regular basis."

Sebastian had no idea what his master was rattling on about now. The clues were very vague. He strummed his chin with his fingers. Ciel yanked his tail-coat until Sebastian was on his knees.

"Tempest Stayne, Emilie McIntyre, whatever her name is, her father was not human!" Ciel barked.

The butler was truly confused now. A demon and human relationship was rare. If Ciel was proposing that Tempest's father was a demon, they would have known that by now. Unless his master was implying that her father was not a demon, but some other type of supernatural creature. A demon and human relationship was rare, like it was said before. But anything else was almost unheard of.

"And who, pray tell, young master, does she look like?" Sebastian wrestled out of Ciel's grasp and got to his feet again. He adjusted his tie as Ciel took a deep breath.

His eye looked up at him, shock running through him, yet he remained as serious as ever.

"I believe that her father is Undertaker." Ciel said it so simply that it seemed almost true.

Sebastian leaned his chin against his hand and looked genuinely to be in deep thought.

"Well, that would explain why you cannot eat her soul. She has one and yet at the same time, it's unattainable. But what on earth gave you that idea?"

"Her face. Just now when she pulled back some of her hair from her face, I could see Undertaker's. The resemblance was uncanny. There's only one thing that will confirm my theory," Ciel explained.

"Oh, and what is that, sir?" Sebastian finally understood what his master was getting at.

Ciel grinned. "You know what to do."

They walked back to the Tempest's bedroom. The door had been left ajar. Sebastian went in by himself. Ciel watched from across the hall as the door was shut behind him. He waited for an entire minute to pass. His eye was fixed on the door. For several seconds, there was silence. For but a brief moment he thought his theory was incorrect, when _it_ happened.

The girl inside was squealing with laughter that was oh-so familiar. Granted her laughter didn't cause the walls to vibrate, but it was loud and obnoxious enough for him to hear from across the hall and through a solid door. He smiled to himself, knowing that he had finally solved this mystery. Tempest continued laughing for at least another full minute before it died down. Sebastian remained an extra minute or two for some reason. When Sebastian left the room, Ciel knew that he was right.

"Over one-hundred years, I still don't know what kind of joke could be that damn funny." He was triumphant, but he still didn't know what on earth Sebastian told Undertaker so many years ago. Or Undertaker's daughter for that matter.


	12. Not So Proper Introduction

"Sebastian, find his whereabouts. If he's nowhere near New York, get three plane tickets to wherever he is. I don't care how long it takes. Just get us to where he is." Ciel headed towards Tempest's door.

"I beg your pardon, my lord? Not even a week ago, you just wanted to kill the girl and eat her soul. Now, you're trying to unite her with her biological father? I'm afraid I don't understand your actions."

Ciel stood in the doorway. He cleared up one mystery, why he couldn't eat Tempest's soul. The mystery why he decided to introduce her to her father and what made him want to keep her around longer was unsolved. He'd rather die than admit that Sebastian was right.

"Your job isn't to question my actions. I though I told you that a few days ago. Just do as I say." Ciel turned the knob of the door.

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian turned on his heels after bowing with his hand over his heart.

Ciel entered the guest bedroom. His eye was drawn to Tempest sitting up in the bed. Her laughter seemed to have caused her some pain. She wiped away some stray tears.

"I don't get you," she said at last. "Don't you want to eat my soul? Why did your butler tell me that joke? Did you order him to do that?"

"Yes," he approached slowly.

"Why?"

"To confirm a theory." He stated plain. Ciel got close enough to see her face more clearly.

Now that he could see it more clearly, the resemblance between her and Undertaker was obvious. A long, feminine face. A delicate nose and almond shaped eyes. (I tried to describe Undertaker's face as best I could. Since you only see it once in the manga so far. This is just how I would describe his face. I apologize if there is anyone who would disagree.) The hair was completely off and the eyes weren't right either. But the face was too similar for it to be a coincidence and the laughter too. No one else on earth laughed like that.

"I believe that you're the illegitimate child of an old acquaintance. He's not a demon, so you have no need to be afraid."

Tempest went silent for a very long time. Her face was drawn into a tell-tale image of confusion. She knew, of course, that she was illegitimate. Her mother never discussed her father, not with her. The only thing that Mom ever told Tempest was that she got pregnant after a one night stand. There were never intimate details. Tempest never even know what her father looked like. Wait a minute! The demon said he was at least a hundred years old. How could her father be his acquaintance?

"If my father isn't a demon, then what is he?" She didn't trust the demon, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"A death god, a retired grim reaper. I only know him as Undertaker. He probably has an actual name, but who even knows it. Other grim reapers called him as that as well." He answered.

Tempest fell silent again. She looked down at her lap, trying to breath normally. Not only were the bandages a hindrance, but something else was bothering her. She may have been so nerve wracked that she couldn't breathe properly.

"I know that you were officially diagnosed as being legally blind as a child. What was the problem exactly?"

Tempest looked at him. She looked him over, up and down. There was nothing intimidating about him. He was small, thin and the eye-patch only made him more pitiable. There wasn't anything more pathetic than a kid with a missing eye. Yet, despite his somewhat innocent appearance Tempest knew he could kill. He could kill her without hesitation.

"Why do you need to know that?" Tempest couldn't stop herself.

The demon was in front of her, glaring into her eyes. The magenta eye was glue to her face. He leaned over her, a knee on top of the mattress and he braced his arms against the headboard. Tempest's head was trapped between them. She audibly swallowed. Her heart began beating fast.

"It's rude to answer a question with a question and this is _my_ house, so you'll be answering mine first. So, what was the problem with your eyes?"

"I-I could see colors and shapes, but everything was blurry. It was like if you zoomed in too far on a picture on the computer. Everything was fuzzy and indistinguishable. We tried glasses but it didn't work." She one of her eye lids with her right hand. "That's when Damon showed up. He promised my mom in exchange for her soul, he would give me a set of eyes that would work. These were actually green before that."

Tempest's story made sense to Ciel. Grim reaper's were noted by their poor eye sight. Their eyes were so powerful, they needed special glasses. This only further confirmed his theory.

Ciel turned away from a moment, thinking to himself. It had become lonely for him. Having a butler around for all eternity wasn't as heavenly as it sounded. But, that didn't mean he loved her. Some new company around perhaps would ease his boredom until he was no longer in that state.

"C-could you at least tell me your name? I know your butler goes by Sebastian, but what's your name?"

Ciel chuckled and turned to her. "I suppose you can know that much about me. You may call me Ciel Phantomhive."


	13. Kiss

"What do you want with me?" Tempest timidly asked.

That was the million dollar question. Could Ciel actually keep her prisoner here to keep him entertained? Unlike the other demon in the manor, Ciel was not a lustful demon. The furthest he'd ever gone was kissing. His form was too young to try and pull off something more _daring._ He didn't even know how he would make himself look older either, not yet anyway. So what would her purpose be?

Ciel leaned in very close to Tempest's face. Their noses barely touched.

"I haven't decided yet. I can't eat your soul. You have a reaper's soul, or whatever they call it. I can't have it. And yet, I can't let you leave either," Ciel stared her down.

Tempest looked like she was about to burst into tears. Ciel felt a disgusting twinge in the pit of his stomach. It was uncomfortable. He was fine before he saw the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of Tempest's eyes. Without thinking, he reached out with his hand, using his other arm to brace himself still and barely touched her face. Tempest suddenly seized his wrist and yanked it away from her. Her blue eyes burned with anger. Ciel thought that they looked like fiery embers, slowly forming into blue flames.

"Don't touch me." She continued to glare at him.

Ciel pulled his arm away and returned her glare. No one had dared to touch him in over a century. Tempest was growing stronger. He could sense it. When she was able to, she'd be able to resist him and escape. It'd only be a matter of time.

Ciel stood there for the longest time, debating on what to do. Tempest was changing fast. She was no longer a frightened like a school girl. Something happened in that cemetery that changed her completely.

"What happened that day in the graveyard?" Ciel asked finally.

"What does it matter to you?" Tempest returned with a sneer.

The demon Ciel was no different than human Ciel. All that changed was that he grew stronger. Physically and mentally. He got what he wanted, he may be a spoiled brat, but this spoiled brat never took no for answer. Tempest was giving him lip service and not to mention she dared to touch him. Nobody besides Sebastian had permission to do that, not in the last century and then some. Her new attitude was far more entertaining, but at the same time it was annoying.

Before Tempest could blink, Ciel's mouth formed a seal over hers a blazing kiss. Her screams were muffled in that all the consuming kiss. Ciel grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. Tempest struggled against him, but her sore and still very painful abdomen prevented most of her resistance. She closed her eyes tightly, but she knew that Ciel was watching her with his now magenta eye.

They stayed like that for several minutes until he released her. Ciel stormed towards the door, not even taking a glance at her. Tempest touched her lips which were probably pink and swollen. She shook from head to toe. It wasn't the first time he had done that. However, this time he did for an entirely different reason. He didn't try to steal her soul. He thought of her as nothing more than a plaything, just like Damon.

Ciel stood in the middle of the door way now, his arm holding onto one of the carved, wooden panels. He sighed. Turning his head slowly, Ciel turned his gaze to the woman trembling in the bed sheets.

"Don't get any ideas. That was just to teach you what would happen if you think about touching me again. I don't allow that sort of thing to slide so easily next time. Next time, it won't be just a kiss on the lips."

Tempest glared at him again. She was more or less disturbed rather than afraid. The taste of his lips like that left a dark impression on her.

Ciel ignored it and was about to leave, when he added one more warning, "And, please, don't bother trying to escape. Even if you get out of here, you don't know where you are and you're injured. This Damon of yours would find you the minute you step off my property. I'm currently shielding you from him. He can't sense you as you remain here. It would in your best interest to stay here until he can be disposed of."

He began to shut the door when Tempest sprang up and ran after him. The door was slammed in her face, though he didn't do it completely on purpose. He forced the door closed as she pounded her fists against the door.

"You can't keep me here! I want to leave!" Tempest screamed through the door.

"That's not an option right now. If you were smart, you'd listen to me. It's a miracle you're even able to batter the door like that. You'd be a sitting duck and I may not be inclined to save you again. Just sit in there and rest." He produced a key from his coat and locked the door as a safe measure.

"You little punk!" Tempest's screams could still be heard down the hall as Ciel stormed back to his study.


	14. Plotting

Tempest was curled up on the floor, holding her stomach. Maybe she should have just stayed in bed. For a 'minor' injury, it felt like she'd been kicked by a horse. What made it even worse was that she had to admit Ciel was right. When he was around, Damon wasn't. She couldn't run very fast. She'd only slow herself down.

Let's not forget that she just found out her father was, what did Ciel call him? A grim reaper. A grim reaper of all things. Something like that takes a while to settle in. Did that mean she would get some kind of super power? The only upside was that she didn't have a soul for Ciel to eat. An image of her deceased grandmother popped into her head for some strange reason. If Grandma knew what was going on, she'd be turning in her grave. She probably was, anyway.

Tempest slowly got to her feet, shaking, but she managed to stand up on her own. She walked slowly to the bed, picking up the clothes that Sebastian had placed on the foot of the bed. At these demons had good taste in clothes.

The clothes set out for her was a nice-looking black frock dress that fell two inches below her knees. There was a crisp white blouse to go underneath it, the frock having a square neckline and no sleeves. Sebastian also left behind thick, knee-length black socks, but no shoes. Figures.

Tempest pulled the long nightgown over her head. Tossing the garment over her shoulder, she didn't care where it landed. It wasn't her house. Let the butler pick it up. He deserved it anyway.

She stood for a moment in nothing but unfamiliar lingerie. The nurse they supposedly hired to care for her while she lay unconscious changed her 'unmentionables.' They were plain, no frills, no ribbons, and no lace. Not exactly in Tempest's particular tastes, but at least they were clean.

Tempest quickly put on the clothes, unsure if either one of the demons would sneak in for a peak. Ciel she wasn't so sure about, but that butler of his was a different story entirely. Something about him just simply read pervert. He looked like a pervert, but not one of those obvious kinds. A 'subtle pervert' was a random idea Tempest came up with as she discussed the demons with herself.

She glanced through the full length mirror across the room after she had changed. Tempest looked nice enough to pass through Brooklyn or Queens, but her hair displayed a thin layer of oil. She looked a little unkempt and it seemed she hadn't eaten a long time. For Tempest, three days was a long time. She didn't look it, but she loved food. Her metabolism was just faster than many other people's.

Tempest went to the door, pulled on the knob, and then smacked herself in the face. She should have remembered that Ciel locked the door from the outside. She swore under her breath. In the corner of her eye, she spotted the large windows with the curtains pulled back as far as possible. If the height wasn't very far, she could shimmy down the window. The sheets and curtains she could tie together for extra safety. Tempest ran to the window and jumped on the little cushioned area. Her fingers trembled with excitement at the thought of escape. It would wait until her injuries were fully healed, however it never hurt to have plan ahead of schedule. She unlocked the windows and pushed them open. Tempest put her head out, only to be thoroughly disappointed.

Below, heavy crashing waves collided with ancient rocks. The large building, which she assumed was a mansion, was built on top of some kind of island in the middle of the ocean. The wall down below her window met the solid rock and the rock continued down to the waters below. She could take the coward's way out and end it all now. But her mother would never forgive her, neither could she forgive herself. Tempest may have been a shy girl, but definitely not a cowardly one. On stage, she had to play certain roles, strong women who didn't exist, and yet were alive all the same. Her characters would never look at this situation as a death sentence. Rather they would fight back, even until the point of death. Suicide was not the answer.

Tempest climbed back in before she accidently fell to her demise, shutting and locking the windows.

"I would not recommend taking that exit, Miss Stayne. It's a bit of a doozy." Tempest whipped around to find the butler standing in the middle of the room with his hands behind his back.

Tempest thought to herself, _He knows all of Ciel's secrets, doesn't he? They must have spent years with each other. If I coax a little more information out of this butler, maybe I can win the day just yet._

Tempest climbed off the window seat, dusting off the skirt of her dress.

"Don't call me 'Miss Stayne.' It makes me feel old." She corrected him.

"Oh? You can't be more than twenty-five years old, if I'm not mistaken. Why should you be concerned if people call you 'miss?' You're too young to be worried about that yet."

"I'm twenty-two," she retorted, "And I'm allowed to feel old if someone calls me 'miss.' Besides, where I come from most people don't even call women that anymore."

"Why don't they?" Sebastian asked.

Tempest rolled her eyes. "This is New York. Marriage status isn't something people bother with. Unless I was married, I prefer it if people used my first name."

"I see." Sebastian grinned.

Tempest eyed him, however she didn't say anything. She merely looked him over again from the other side of the room.

"I have one question, and I hope you can be honest with me. Though I don't know why I just said that, honesty probably doesn't come naturally to you demons," Tempest folded her arms across her chest.

"You'd be surprise, _Tempest," _Sebastian smirked. "If what you want to know is something the young master would permit you to know, and then by all means, ask away."

"Uh-huh." Tempest thought for a minute. Sebastian was being too easy. It couldn't have been that easy to get information like that out of him. Especially if the information concerned his 'young master.'

"Just now, h-he kissed me," Tempest stuttered. She still felt awful about what happened.

"I see," Sebastian held his chin as if he was deep in thought.

"I think he did to me as a punishment. He said something about teaching me a lesson not to touch him. Is there…is there something wrong with him that he can't have somebody touch him?"

Sebastian sighed and put his hand back behind him. "I'm afraid that much of that is confidential information, information I'm certain the young master would be most displeased if I told you anything. What I can tell you is that he does not like it when someone touches him, with me as the only exception."

Tempest fought hard not to smile. _So he doesn't like touching, although he has no problem touching other people. Huh, ironic, but it'll have to do for now. _

"And why are you here, anyway?" Tempest asked.

"The master would like to see you for dinner." Sebastian pulled out from his back a pair of black ballet flats. "And I forgot to give you these."


	15. Dining with a Demon

Tempest followed at Sebastian's heels. She kept her eyes forward. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, well, except for following a demon butler to a dining room and then proceed to have a meal with another demon in a creepy mansion on an island that may or may not be in the United States. Things in her life were no longer ordinary. Tempest had a set of demon eyes in her skull. Her mother's soul was eaten by the same demon who gave her the eyes in the first place. She was having dinner with a demon and guarded by his butler. Ordinary and normality had already flown out the window a long, long time ago.

Tempest took this time to look around her surroundings, possibly for an exit. They must have been on the second floor because they climbed down a grand staircase. Sebastian led the way from the foyer to another corridor, which led to the dining hall, as he had already pronounced. The whole of the mansion was dimly lit by either candles or some electric lights. It hadn't been overly decorated, but Ciel's wealth could definitely be established. The mansion was big and owned a grandeur Tempest had never seen before. From the dainty carvings in the wall panels to the marble floor of the foyer, this place screamed class. And Tempest had only seen a few parts of this place!

Sebastian took her down the corridor, which was lined up with various suits of armor. The small armory had suits from not only Europe, but also of a samurai and of an ancient Chinese soldier. From what period, Tempest couldn't tell. She was an actress, not a historian.

The butler quietly pushed open the door leading the dining hall. Tempest caught a glimpse of a cocky smirk planted on Sebastian's face as she walked by. He held the door open for her and she looked around the brightly lit hall.

The dining hall itself was huge, like Wall Street huge. Tempest looked around at the gothic setting in awe. The walls of the place were of sandstone-colored bricks. Tall, cathedral windows opened the view to the sea behind their thin black panels. There was fire place down the far left hand side with an armchair and a matching ottoman. A small pile of books lay beside it. Tempest looked at the marble floor and could see her own reflection in it. She had never seen a floor so clean you could eat off it.

In the middle of the dining hall, there was an elegant table set for two. The table itself looked like it could easily seat fifty or so people, but there were only two settings. Every other chair was empty. Tempest looked around cautiously. There was no sign of Ciel. She stood perfectly still until Sebastian touched her shoulder.

"This way please," he gestured towards the table.

Tempest followed him to the chair closest to the one at the head of the table. There was no doubt that Ciel would be sitting there once he showed up. It only made sense. It was his house after all. Without any indication of his presence being made known, Ciel entered the dining hall, dressed all in black like he was going to a funeral. He didn't say anything. He looked at her briefly, turned to his butler, and whispered something in his ear. Tempest sat too far from the doorway to be able to hear anything. Sebastian disappeared into the corridor and Ciel shut the door behind him. Tempest tried not to give away any sign of anxiety or fear. He would only feed upon that and flip the situation back into his favor. She had to have patience. She had to lure him into a false sense of security and then turn her information into a tool for revenge. As long he kept her here, whether she was injured or not, he was going to pay for the consequences.


	16. Games and Consequences

Tempest ate silently. She swallowed her second glass of red wine. Ciel didn't seem to mind her appetite. The demon looked like he had more on his mind and could not be distracted. Tempest swore and raged inside, though she kept a cool exterior. The arrogant little prick made such a big deal out of dinner, and then ignored her.

At least, so she thought.

Ciel wasn't ignoring her, rather taking mental notes of her behavior and mannerisms. Tempest was a quiet girl, except on stage. He noticed the big difference in her confidence when she performed and when she was in real life. She kept her gaze towards her food, avoiding all contact with him. She was angry. She had the very right to be too.

He watched her as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. Tempest started to rise from her chair, but he grabbed her wrist.

"Leaving so soon?" Ciel looked her in the eye.

Tempest was frozen by his gaze. She could feel her body go entirely numb, frozen with fear. She hadn't felt like this sense they first encountered each other, when he was watching her perform at the Ravencraft Theater. She couldn't think.

"Please…let me go," Tempest struggled to say.

Surprisingly, Ciel released her hand. Tempest stumbled back, knocking her chair to the floor. The dining hall echoed with the sound of the wooden chair falling and landing with a dull thud. Tempest suddenly lost her confidence again. That eye of his scared her without even trying. Her knees buckled underneath her. Whether it was the wine or her fear, Tempest couldn't tell.

Tempest picked up the chair, taking her time before rising to her full height. She didn't need to be told to sit down again. She sat down and poured herself some more wine. Her hand shook slightly as she poured the wine into her glass. Tempest looked in the corner of her eye to find Ciel staring at her again. She shivered involuntarily. In two gulps, she downed her wine and then sunk back her chair. Heat rushed to her cheeks. All of her skin went hot and flushed. She caught Ciel still staring at her, more specifically her mouth.

What he did next confused her a little. He sighed like he was agitated and blocked his view of her with his hand. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and let the wine kick in some more. She was officially tipsy. Tempest was just one glass shy of drunk.

Now, Ciel was a generally a patient demon. His obsession with the actress at his dining table wore his patience down to a fraction of what it once had been. However, he could be patient when he wanted to be, but he was also greedy. That had always been in his nature. Greed was a vice he excelled in. But right now, he felt himself slipping into another vice. He caught himself staring at her mouth as it became stained red with wine. When he started wondering what her lips tasted like, he blocked his view with his hand.

In a state of denial, he lied to himself. He wasn't in love. A demon couldn't love. They had no heart after all. Yet Ciel couldn't deny the urge to keep her around, to protect her, but only because he considered her to be something that belonged to him, like a game piece. He used to treat the people around him like chess pieces. This would be no different.

This reminded him of something, something he was planning earlier.

He looked over at Tempest, who was pushing a piece of roast beef around her plate with her fork.

"Do you play chess?" He asked.

Tempest awoke from her day-dream. She looked at him with a confused look on her face.

"Yes, well, not professionally. I know the basics of the game. Why do you ask?" Tempest put her fork down.

"Why don't we play a game," Ciel rose from his chair, "I've always been interested in games, especially chess. We could make it interesting."

"Interesting?" One of Tempest's eye brows rose.

"You win, I let you leave and never bother you again. But if I win, you have to share my bedroom tonight." He added a light chuckle.

Tempest jumped to her wobbly feet. Her face was even more flushed from embarrassment than with the wine. "You're kidding, right? You must be out of your mind if you think I'll take a gamble like that! I'm not sharing a bed with the likes of you!"

"I never said sharing my bed, just my room. You should remove your mind out of the gutter, _Tempest_. I can have Sebastian put twin beds. However, this is your chance to win your freedom. You would have to wait until your injuries heal before you could even attempt an escape. Even then, you don't even know where you are. This is your one and only chance to leave here without trying so hard. Unless you don't want to take the opportunity to rescue yourself," Ciel added with a wicked grin.

Tempest thought for a moment. The little devil had a point.

"Fine, I'll play chess with you. And when _I_ win, you'd better leave me be, forever." She stumbled backwards ever so slightly.

"I'm a man of my word," he put his hand over his heart. "I will return shortly." Ciel left the table and exited through the small corridor.

Tempest waited for several minutes before Ciel returned with a long box tucked under his arm with Sebastian in tow, who was loaded down with a small table in one arm and an armchair being pushed with his other. The butler set the table down first by the fire place. The armchair he was pushing was placed next to the table and the armchair that was already in the hall was repositioned so that it faced opposite of its partner.

"Are you ready?" Ciel gestured towards the hearth.

Tempest staggered her way over there, plopping down in a sluggish manner into the armchair. Ciel took his seat in the other and began setting up the chess board. Tempest thought that she had made a mistake. Sure, she knew the rules of chess. They were simple enough to understand. Heck, she was even on the chess team in high school after her eyes had been _fixed_. It was the fact that she had been drinking wine. She had been so excited over the idea that her freedom could be won with a simple game of chess that she forgot she was practically drunk. However, now she couldn't back out. It was already too late. Ciel already set up the board, his black pieces opposing her white. She figured he would choose black.

"Ladies first," he smirked.

"Just one thing though," Tempest started, "Don't cheat. I know you're a demon and demons are never very honest and it goes against your very nature to play an honest game with your prey. But considering the fact that you're holding me against your will and it was partially your butler's fault that I ran into that tombstone that caused my injury, you could at least give me a handicap."

"And what about your current state? Should I go easy on you because you're also tipsy?" Ciel put his chin over his folded hands.

"I'm not drunk. But me being tipsy will have no effect on my game. Just don't cheat. Pretend you're the gentleman you must have been all those years ago."

Ciel laughed. "Tempest, to be honest, I cheated at chess when I was human too. However, you do make a point. It was partially my butler's fault you were injured. I'll give you that handicap. But that does not mean I will show you mercy. I'm still a 'spoiled brat' and I don't like to lose."

Tempest pushed her first pawn forward. "I don't plan to lose either."

Ciel moved on of his own pawns forward as well. "Then we may just have a problem."


	17. Sweet Dreams Aren't Made of This

Tempest wiped the sweat from her brow. She licked her lips anxiously. Her eyes were fixed on the board. It seemed as though she was winning, but she shouldn't and couldn't get cocky. Tempest was one of those people who could achieve a lot with just a little bit of alcohol. Doesn't condone alcoholism, but she owned that strange ability nevertheless.

Ciel watched her with great concentration. He could tell she wouldn't lose by letting pride or over-confidence become her weakness. She was smarter than that. However, he had an ace up his sleeve. He may have been a demon, he may have been a cheater in his past life, but he never lied. This game would end with him as champion. Tempest's skills in this game only pushed him forward. She had proven to him that she was more than just an actress.

This was all the more reason to beat her mercilessly in order to keep her around.

Ciel had lost all but one pawn. What remained of his other pieces were his bishops and a knight. He let his rooks be taken and his queen he let Tempest take as well. His king seemed relatively unguarded, save his remaining knight. A bishop lay in wait behind his king. He had just finished his move.

Tempest had taken even more losses. All that she had left was her king and her own knight. She wasn't rusty as Ciel might have thought. She had hobbies and one of those hobbies happened to include chess. Tempest never thought, however, that her skills in chess would be of any use. A chess game that would decide whether she could go free from a prison or stay the night in a demon's bedroom was not exactly what she had in mind in high school. She continued her stare at the board; the black and white squares were starting to blend together.

She blinked a few times and refocused. Her remaining knight was in the perfect position to take Ciel's. Two steps forward and one to the left. And then her knight would be facing his king, which he practically left wide open. Ciel would have no choice but to move his king further towards her half of the board in order to escape her knight. Her queen could move anywhere, so the black was a sitting duck.

Tempest tried not to smile. She was going to win this, she was confident in that. She wasn't going to get cocky, though. There still remained a lot of planning. Ciel wasn't lying when he said he didn't plan to lose. Tempest took his word for it. She lost almost all of her pieces to him with the last half hour. He kept to his word about playing an honest game, but he played without mercy and with a callous strategy.

Tempest inhaled sharply. She lightly touched her knight. Her heart began pounding excitedly inside her chest. Her hand froze with the chess piece at her fingertips. She wasn't afraid to make her move; she wanted to make sure it was the right move. A few seconds passed before she moved her knight in the direction she wanted.

Tempest raised her head to see Ciel's reaction. Her knight was one move away from taking his king. He would lose for sure. She smiled ever so slightly, only to look down at the board to find her knight unguarded from his bishop. Ciel didn't waste any time in his turn to capture the ill-fated knight. Tempest swallowed hard. That knight was her last defense.

Ciel could see the panic forming in her eyes by the light of the fire. She bit her lip nervously so was so close. She made an amateur mistake and lost. There were no other white pieces to come to the aid of her king. Ciel still had a pair of bishops.

"Do you want to forfeit now or would you like to finish the game anyway? You're chances are slim to none." Ciel added with a smirk.

Tempest bowed her head in defeat. "I'm going to lose anyway. What's the point?"

Ciel knocked over her king, even though the game was officially over.

"I may be a demon, Tempest, but I'm also a greedy child. I've played this game for a long time, and while you showed admirable skills, you lost. I'll be seeing you later."

He rose from his chair and left the room with Sebastian in tow. Tempest sat there for the longest time, mourning. The fire continued to blaze until it was nothing more than dull embers. Tempest walked from the dining hall in near darkness. She eventually found her way into the corridor where her bedroom was. Sebastian was just leaving the room she suspected as being hers. He smiled at her but only received a burning glare from her.

She brushed past him, kicking off her ballet flats as she entered. The door was slammed shut behind her. Not to her surprise there lay a long nightgown on the bed. Tempest sighed and removed her regular clothes. The nightgown was long, longer than the ones she was used to. She half expected Ciel to give her a shorter one, however that didn't seem to be a part of his nature. Sebastian's maybe, but not Ciel's. The black fabric lay softly against her skin. It felt like silk beneath her fingertips.

Along with the nightgown was pair of slippers and a black bathrobe. Sebastian knocked on the door.

"Are you nearly done?" She heard his voice through the thick door.

"Your _master _is going to have to wait. I may have lost, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go quietly into the night. He's can wait as long I as want him to. Tell him that for me!" Tempest plopped down on the soft bed, crossing her arms and turning her head away from the door.

"Very well, I'll give him your message." Tempest heard Sebastian's footsteps leaving her doorway. They echoed off the corridor walls until they disappeared completely.

Tempest waited in her bedroom for several minutes before she heard the sound of Sebastian's footsteps returning.

"I'm afraid that the young master seemed rather perturbed by your arrangement. He says that if you make him wait any longer, you'll sleep on the floor tonight."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything. Throwing on the bathrobe, she flew to the door and opened it. Sebastian looked a little surprised at her reaction. Tempest pushed him aside again and kept her eyes to the floor. The butler nodded. He led her further down the hall to the master bedroom, one of two in the mansion. Sebastian pushed open the door. It swung open with minimum effort. The hinges creaked lowly.

Tempest scanned the room, scowling. Twin beds pushed apart as far as the room could allow were positioned on one side of the room. A night stand stood by the bed Ciel currently lay in. He was already tucked in bed like the child he seemed to be, but he sat up when he heard the two of them enter. Sebastian went to the fire place and lit a match, tossing it into the dying embers. More logs were piled on, the flames growing bigger. The room was instantly thrown into a warm glow from the fire. The air changed quickly. Sebastian turned to Tempest who was only standing in front of her bed, staring at it.

"Do you need help?" Sebastian asked.

"I'm 22 years old, I think I can manage." Tempest snapped before she lifted the covers and crawled into bed.

"Good night, then." Sebastian left.

"Good night." Tempest heard Ciel say. She looked over at him in order to tell him off, but he had already crept back under his blankets.

"Hn." Tempest turned her back to him.

The clock had barely struck four A.M when Tempest heard Ciel moan in his sleep. At first, she thought nothing of it. However, he only became louder and his cries more and more agonized. Tempest thought didn't think it was possible for demons to have nightmares, but Ciel wasn't a normal demon, was he? She sat up in the dark bedroom, the flames in the fire place having died out for a long while. By the light of the full moon, she watched him writhe and sweat. His sheets were tangled up in his small fists so tightly she feared that he would tear right through them.

She wanted him to suffer, but now that she was watching him, she felt disgusted with herself. Tempest cursed.

"Why do I have to be such a nice person," she grumbled under her breath as she tossed her covers away from her body.

Tempest quickly but quietly tip-toed to Ciel's bedside, carefully on the edge of it. She grabbed his shoulders knowing he would be mad later.

Ciel woke up with a start the moment her hands touched him. His eyes flew open, glaring at her. He pinned her down to the mattress.

"I warned you." He sneered.

"You were having a nightmare! What was I supposed to do?" Tears started streaming down her face. She was afraid of him now. "Believe it or not, I was just trying to help you!"

Ciel froze. His eyes, or at least the one Tempest could see, softened. The other eye was hidden behind his long hair. Ciel slowly got off of her. Tempest ran to her bed. She crawled back under her sheets. Ciel didn't return to sleep. He sat up in bed. Tempest couldn't sleep either. Something bugged her and Ciel wasn't making it any easier by just sitting there.

Tempest sighed heavily before telling him what was going through her mind.

"D-did someone hurt you when you were human?" Tempest asked.

Ciel nodded in the corner of her eye.

"It's just that I knew a girl who had a similar problem. She was being abused at home. Whenever we had a slumber party, she'd have a nightmare. I didn't find out until later that her step-father was physically and sexually abusing her. She had a difficult time letting other people in. She would even flinch a little when someone hugged her. Is that your problem?"

Ciel frowned. "Don't assume you know everything about me. However, for your information, I was abused, physically anyway."

Tempest didn't know what to say. She had thought Ciel was just another cold-hearted fiend. This didn't change her opinion of him, though. He still had her held captive, no matter how nice his mansion was.


	18. Reasons

"Move the two o'clock meeting to three and my three-thirty conference call to four-thirty."

Tempest stirred from her sleep by the sounds of Ciel giving orders to Sebastian. She yawned, rubbed her eyes, and shifted in the bed. Ciel was having his shoes tied by his butler, which to Tempest looked strange because most kids his age could tie their own bloody shoes and if they hadn't learned by then, something was wrong with them mentally. Then again, she reminded herself, Ciel wasn't human and if you have a butler to serve you throughout eternity, you can afford to be too lazy to tie your own shoes.

"Good morning, Miss Tempest," Sebastian looked away from his task to give her a cheerful grin.

She sneered and hid her head underneath the pillow, but not before mumbling that she didn't like being called 'Miss Tempest.' Tempest stayed like that until she sort of heard one of them step near her bed. She lifted up the pillow just enough to see if it was either Sebastian or Ciel.

Ciel peered underneath her pillow. He wore a small grin that confused and shocked her. What was he so chipper about?

"Are you going to come down to eat or should I have Sebastian bring you something?" He tried to pull the pillow out of Tempest's hands.

Her grip was strong and so she wouldn't let go of it. She kept her face buried under it while she lay on her stomach, the sheets and blankets completely hiding her. Her elbow was the only part of her body that was visible.

"I don't care." Ciel heard her muffled tone with his demon hearing.

He shrugged his shoulders and took his leave. Ciel turned to his butler, "When I'm done with breakfast, make sure she gets something to eat."

"Yes, sir." Sebastian nodded, leaving with his master through the door.

Tempest heard the door shut and put her head back on top of the pillow. Her bruised abdomen was screaming at her to get off and lay on her back. She flipped over before she drifted back to sleep.

She wasn't awaken again until eleven o'clock exactly. Sebastian rolled in a metal cart; a whole selection of food was neatly arranged on the very top. Within the second tier of the cart, there was a coffee pot and a porcelain cup to go with it. More hungry than tired, Tempest sat up in the bed, rubbing her eyes.

"He's being awfully nice. Most kidnapers wouldn't send their prisoners a feast like this." Tempest stretched her arms above her head.

Sebastian busied himself with pouring the steaming hot coffee into the porcelain cup. Tempest watched the steam rise up and then disappear into the air. He handed her the cup on the matching saucer. She took a quick sip. Sebastian pulled the cart towards her end of the bed so she could put her cup down.

"Master Ciel is a demon, but he is a gentleman first. He is merely a product of his times, the Victorian Era." Said Sebastian.

Tempest reached for the French toast coated with powdered sugar and maple syrup. She grabbed the knife and fork without hesitation, digging into the food almost immediately. Sebastian chuckled as he watched her devour her whole plate and smear her chin with the powdered sugar. She licked her lips and grabbed for a napkin. Sebastian beat her to it, but handed it to her. She thanked him quietly. Tempest went for the muffins next.

"Seriously though," she said between bites, "Why is he so happy?"

"Reasons," was all Sebastian responded with.

"And those reasons are?" Tempest took another sip from her coffee.

The butler pressed his finger to his lips which had formed a mischievous grin. Tempest took that as a sign that she wasn't going to get anymore answers out of him.


	19. Author's Note

Let me first say that you guys are the absolute best. I've never had such devoted fans before. Thank you so much!

Now here's the bad news: I'm stuck on ideas and I don't know where to go with the next few chapters. I don't want my OC to be introduced to her father just yet. I want to wait until at least chapter 20, 21, or 22 to do that. So, I need your help to come with new ideas. Which brings me to some good news!

The best ideas for the next few chapter will win a chance to have their own OC character created and added for Phantom of the Theater and have their names acknowledged at the top of the chapter. Not exactly a cash prize, but for it's the best I can do.

Do your best! I'll decide next Monday who the winner is!


	20. When Lightning Strikes

Although it was a short contest, I gladly appreciate all of your ideas. Sadly, I couldn't pick just one winner. However, I'm happy to announce that KHRLover197 and Paxloria are the winners. Would the winners also please instant message me for any specific information they want for their OC characters. Thank you! All of you, my fans, are awesome! And without further ado, the newest installment of Phantom of the Theater with Paxloria's story line. Congratulations!

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Evening fell quicker than Tempest had expected. She didn't do much other than sit in her room and read the books Sebastian had brought up from the library. Apparently, the mansion on the tiny little off island, the location the butler never fully disclosed by the way, was just temporary. Ciel needed to time to figure out how to get rid of Damon for Tempest. Whether he was going to do out of pity and compassion for the girl or he just wanted the inferior demon out of his way for his own plot, Tempest couldn't tell. Nor did she care really. It didn't matter to her which demon tried to possess her. Her world had gone from the frying and into the oven in a matter of a single night.

Ciel and Sebastian had left her alone for several hours, something about a business trip to the mainland. For all Tempest knew, they were off the coast of Canada, which wouldn't be so difficult. New York State was so far north, it would be mere child's play to get across the border. If it were true, that would explain the frigid air in the mansion. Sebastian mentioned electric heating, yet after many hours of searching Tempest still couldn't find the thermostat.

As she walked through yet another corridor, she noticed the blackening sky outside the large paneled window. She assumed it was late in the evening, but with the sky cover it seemed to be much later. Tempest felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise with fear. She always hated storms. The occasional windy shower didn't bother her. Sometimes she didn't mind a little thunder either. But judging by the black clouds, this was going to be a huge storm. Ironic? Her name literally meant storms and she hated them. If she could, she would blame her mom for such a name, however Tempest was the one to blame since she changed it herself in the first place.

Tempest climbed down the stairs, this time in search for food. The large wooden entrance stood still. This would make an excellent time to escape. Too bad she didn't know where she was in the first place. More importantly, how on earth would she explain anything to the authorities that she might run into? Again, for all she knew she could have been in Canada.

'What's that, Mr. Mountie? You want to see some I.D. Well, I'd be glad to if my wallet wasn't hidden from me by a 13 year old looking demon child and his perverted demon butler.' Yeah, that would go over real smooth.

Plus, it just seemed too easy. Tempest was smart enough to avoid _that._

Tempest made her way to the pantry down below the dining hall. It wasn't easy finding it and when she did, she found to her surprise that it was stocked with more modern appliances. At least Ciel had the brilliant of idea of keeping up with the times, even if he kept his antique ideals and customs.

The fridge yielded plenty of ingredients for a sandwich. Tempest quickly went to work, setting up all that she needed on the counter. Turkey, lettuce, cheddar cheese and sliced tomato in that order between two slices of white bread, crusts cut away. She didn't bother climbing up the stairs to the dining hall in order to eat a simple sandwich by herself and then come straight down to put the platter in the dishwasher. It sounded like too much work. While she dug into her meal with a fresh glass of milk to go with it, Tempest heard the faint rumblings of thunder even so far down below. All the tiny, thin hairs on her arms rose. She could see the nearly microscopic hair without even trying. She bit her lower lip for a moment then continued eating her sandwich, pretending that the storm wasn't there.

Tempest couldn't remember why she was so scared of storms and lightning. In her furthest memory, Tempest used to crawl into her mother's bed when a huge storm hit. Her mom tried to ease her daughter's fears by telling her it was just 'angels bowling with God.' Back then Tempest believed her, although the relief was short lived. The fear of storms continued into junior and senior high. When she became too big to share a bed with her mom, she would clutch a medal of Saint Barbara, given to her by Grandma to relieve the fears, to her chest and snuggle beneath her blankets. Neither the comfort of her mom's embrace or the familiar warmth of her blankets and the cool touch of her grandmother's medal were available here and now. She would face this storm for the first time without either one of those things. Even worse, she'd have to face it with at least one demon tonight.

The rolling thunder grew louder just as the lightning began to strike. Tempest ignored the fact that her fingers were starting to shake involuntarily. She chewed her food slowly, but she nearly jumped out of the stool she had been sitting in when a clap of thunder nearly shook the mansion to its foundations. Fed up and so nervous with the storm brewing outside the presumed safety of the mansion, Tempest hurled the remains of her sandwich, which about half, into the nearest trash receptacle. The platter she left behind in a rush would have to wait until Sebastian would find it and put it in its proper place.

Tempest could only about getting under some covers and hiding underneath several blankets from the storm. She had just made into the foyer when the front door was forced open as another clap of lightning cracked through the atmosphere. Not thinking in the least of her surroundings, she flew beneath the small, but open, crawl space beneath the grand staircase, where she sat nearly invisible in the shadows. Her heart pounded in her rib cage.

_Thump-thump_. It was beating so loud her ears couldn't make out the sounds of two sets of feet dragging across the expensive tile floors. Shoes left behind massive watery footprints in their wake.

"Sebastian, take those to the laundry to dry. And when you're done with that, have tea ready for me. And check up on Tempest while you're at it," the younger demon ordered most coolly as he shrugged off his dripping coat.

Sebastian set aside the voluminous paper bags at his feet in order to help his master with his coat. The dripping garment and his own was hung on the sturdy coat rack by the door. He noticed that the lights in the corridor leading to the dining hall were lit. Tempest seemed to have ventured out of her room. The young master didn't seem to notice yet her small form huddled in the nearly pitch black corner of the crawl space beneath the stairs.

"You could check on her yourself, sir," he directed the master's eyes towards the corner underneath the stairs where Tempest's form could be barely made out.

Ciel said nothing to the butler, who was already on his way to drop off the bags' contents in the laundry room. Ciel stood there silently, his eyes, which were much more powerful than any human's, staring at Tempest like she sat in broad daylight. He could see the beads of tears run down her face as she hugged her knees to her chest. The dress she wore had ridden up to her mid-thigh. The young demon actually had to shake himself in order to stop staring at her exposed skin. Through no fault of her own, she had mistakenly brought out a new side in him. A side that reminded him too much of Sebastian, which was the scariest part of all.

To keep himself from staring at her legs, Ciel brought his attention to her face. Her bright blue eyes dimmed with fear. The elegant, ebony eyebrows were drawn to a sharp V. Tempest's fear rolled off her body as easily as a snowball down a steep hill. He could taste it in the air around her. He knew of her fear once before, though it never felt like this. This fear was different in nature. He sensed this to be an old fear, a terror she held onto for a very long time. Ciel made not a sound as he approached the girl shivering under his staircase.

He didn't have to put much effort into kneeling down beside her. Even on his knees, his head touched nowhere near the top. Ciel reached out with a still-gloved hand, giving her shoulder a feather's touch. This stopped her trembling momentarily. Tempest raised her head just so she could see Ciel eye to eye. Her lower lip was on the verge of bleeding. Ciel looked sternly at her lips.

"You're going to make yourself bleed if you keep doing that," he looked back up into her eyes, still locked in a state of fear.

A clap of thunder broke out again. Tempest audibly whimpered and then broke down in tears. She pulled legs closer to her chest, if that was even possible. _Now,_ Ciel understood what was going on.

"Are you afraid of storms?"

Tempest didn't say a word in reply, only silently nodding her head.

Ciel didn't know where to go from there. He'd never been this kind of situation before. He took her arm gently in his hand, helping Tempest to her feet. She stood up shaking and leaned towards him. Had he been a normal human boy of his size, Ciel would never have managed to get the trembling woman up the stairs, down the hallway, and through his bed chamber doors. The twin beds were right where they left them. Upon seeing her bed and even though it was within proximity of his, Tempest hurriedly scurried under the covers faster than a speeding bullet. Under the sheets, Tempest took the liberty of trembling violently, her soft murmurs and whimpers barely audible.

Letting an annoyed sigh escape his lips, Ciel planted himself on the edge of the bed, though he still wondered what he was supposed to do at this point. Tempest twisted and tangled the sheets until she trapped herself in her own little cocoon. Sebastian wasn't going to be happy when he saw the vast wrinkles she made in the silk sheets.

Ciel realized that he had to get back in touch with his humanity again. He knew nothing of fear. What should he have been afraid of? He didn't even have asthma or allergies. But for the sake of this one person, he had to dig deep, dig very, very deep, down to the deepest core of his being for that itty-bitty remainder of what he once was. He pulled with all his might, without any tearing whatsoever; to pull back the sheets and blankets Tempest wrapped herself in. He didn't see the face of a woman or that of a bold actress upon a stage. Rather Ciel saw a child's face, terrified of some sort of monster. Salty tears streaming down her now pinkish cheeks. Eyes drawn to a close, lips quivering, and a breath heaving in and out rapidly. He'd seen that face. He knew that face all too well. The fear may have been on the opposite ends of the spectrum, between an abnormal fear and a realistic, life-threatening terror. Yet, when he looked at her, he couldn't help but feel that tiny part of his human side grow sad and feel compassion towards her.

Ciel climbed in next to her, though he didn't think it would help any. Tempest barely registered him until she peered open her eyes. Ciel's one blue eye stared blankly at like he was waiting for a reaction from her. She swallowed hard and reached out for the only comfort available. Tempest buried her face in Ciel's shirt. She had to bend low because, although she stood at about five feet and five inches, he was shorter than her by two inches. Her fingers tightened around his waistcoat, nearly clawing straight through the fabric. Ciel tucked her head beneath his chin. His own skin, unaccustomed to have some stranger be so close, shivered. Ciel contained it so the woman next to him wouldn't notice.

Tempest's breathing slowed to a sleepy rhythm. Ciel dared not move lest she wake up and he'd have to comfort her all over again. Relieved that she finally became quiet, yet annoyed that he was basically trapped in her death grip. The storm was getting worse. From what he saw, it would be best if she slept through the whole thing. Rain pitter-pattered against the window sills. Lightning split the sky. The ocean surrounding the small island churned and foamed like a wild beast. The dark waters crashed louder than ever against the rocky walls. It did not take long before Ciel found himself drifting off to sleep too.

Sebastian entered the young master's bedroom once he couldn't locate him in the study. There he was…in a startling predicament. Young master Ciel was sound asleep next to Tempest. How times had changed. Victorians looked down upon actresses, who were only slightly higher ranking than prostitutes. Yet, here was Ciel Phantomhive, the Queen's former Watchdog, the Aristocrat of Evil, an earl and head of the Phantomhive family, only because there was no else alive, sleeping in a small beside an actress. The butler smirked.

"Cute." He barely whispered.

Ciel's one eye snapped open. "Shut up."


	21. Don't Stand So Close to Me

One Week Later

Tempest woke up at noon as usual. Ciel and Sebastian were nowhere in sight, as usual. But at least there was a breakfast tray, still warm, at her bedside waiting for her to wake up. Her lower torso no longer ached or hurt. They didn't even need a doctor to be sure she was well again. Her appetite was normal. It had been that way for three days now.

She dressed in the clothes laid out on the foot of the bed. She worried if Sebastian was the one washing her _unmentionables_ or if someone else did. The odds weren't in Tempest's favor as she had yet to see anyone in the mansion besides Ciel and Sebastian. Sebastian made it difficult to be afraid of him. He was more of a lecher than an actual threat. Ciel was growing on her, slowly ever since he comforted her during that huge storm during the week past, but she still had to worry about him. Ciel had proven time and time again that he didn't like to lose. He knew by now she was capable of escaping. He thought she didn't notice that the doors were locked from the outside whenever he left her alone for more than an hour. At least he didn't put in bars on all the windows.

Not that it mattered. Even if she managed to escape the island, without proper identification and a map, an escape would end in tragedy or being caught either by the authorities or Ciel.

The day was unusually bright and sunny, exceptionally warm. Tempest could feel it in the heated sunlight pouring through the windows whose curtains had been flung open. It was indeed a wonder why she hadn't woken up at all when Sebastian came in to rouse Ciel from his sleep. Tempest still shared a room with the 'little lord of the manor.' He wasn't obnoxious as modern teenagers were, which was kind of a plus. What he failed to mention on that fateful night how long she'd actually have to share his room. Weeks, months, years? Tempest shivered at the thought. Deep down in her heart she really hoped she wouldn't stay too much longer. The stage was calling her. If she didn't return soon, her arch-nemesis, Belladonna Botticelli, an Italian immigrant who acted in the more macabre theaters as well, would steal all the good roles. Then there would be nothing left for her and she'd be the laughing stalk of the circuit.

Tempest left the room to wander about some more, and hopefully come upon an idea that would make Ciel release her. She could handle Damon on her own. She didn't need his help.

Upon her descent to the first floor, she saw through the arched windows a lagoon shaped pool down a brick path. She had never noticed it before because she wasn't exactly looking in the direction. And even if she did, the doors were usually locked and bolted to keep her from trying to leave. No matter how the luxurious the mansion may have seemed, it was a prison all the same.

Curious, she tried the back door, which was a French glass door that led to a small garden. Ciel kept several white rose bushes trimmed and properly pruned, or rather Sebastian did. Ciel just him to keep them that way. Never minding or questioning why the back door was not locked, Tempest looked around the garden, examining the roses like they were fine art. She came upon the stony path she saw from the second story window past a wrought iron gate. Tempest pushed through it and walked along the path. The oddest sight caught her full attention. Sitting in the pool was none other than Ciel, reclining even, in the crystal clear water as the sunlight bathed it and nearly blinded her with the glaring light bouncing off the water's surface. The pool had been shaded by many cypress trees intermingled with more rose bushes. She didn't see him from the window because the foliage was blocking her view at that particular angle.

Sebastian stood by a patio table, busy with a tea set and sweets. Neither one of them noticed her enter the pool area until she said something.

"You can swim?" Tempest was a little confused.

Ciel turned to her. "Believe it or not, I can. Besides, how else am I supposed to relax and get exercise?"

"The island has very little room to roam. It's a little more than two miles the entire island is, including the mansion's dimensions. Unfortunately, the young master here requires more exercise than a stroll that's less than two miles." Sebastian explained, taking time away from setting up the table.

Tempest shrugged. Even if she wanted to swim, she had nothing to wear for the occasion. And there was no way in hell that she would swim in her underwear with Sebastian around. His face had pervert written all over it, which probably was already well established. Turning to leave, Sebastian called out to her.

"If you are feeling better, Miss Tempest, you are permitted to come into the pool. There should be a girl's bathing suit in one of the drawers in the room you slept before you _switched_ out." Tempest didn't need to look at Sebastian's face to know that he went and did something. He practically confessed anyway, so it wouldn't be a surprise if she found a two piece lying in wait.

A good swim would help her relax and if Ciel was around Sebastian wouldn't dare to do anything perverse. Tempest reluctantly which to fetch the swim suit, though she hoped against hope that it was a one piece.

As soon as she left, Ciel whipped around and glared at Sebastian. His face was full contempt.

"You bastard, you did that on purpose!"

The butler merely smirked.

"Come now, my lord. You _are_ over one hundred years old, you shouldn't feel bashful about a woman's body. And you think Miss Tempest is going to try to seduce or something? She's much too innocent for that. Although, now that she's well again, she may become desperate for a means of escape…"

Ciel drenched the butler with a miniature tidal wave. Sebastian sighed, wringing out some of his hair.

"You should really consider learning how to control your impulses, my lord." Said Sebastian as he went to change out of his sopping wet uniform into a fresh and dry one.

Tempest looked into the drawer, eyes filled with disgust. Her first instinct had been correct. At the bottom of the drawer she was staring back at a two piece. Sebastian was perhaps the only butler in the history of butlers to put something like that in a woman's drawer. A dark blue halter neck string bikini top with black lace sewn over the top matched with a super short pleated skirt of the same material which partially hid the bikini bottoms. She'd never worn anything so skimpy in her life. Her grandmother was soon to be rolling in her grave.

Admittedly, the bathing suit was kind of cute. It had lace and it was in her favorite color. What bothered her was that Sebastian was most likely the one who picked it up. Ciel, well, Tempest had no clue what his reaction would be.

Bare-foot and wrapped up in a bathrobe as a precaution, Tempest strolled her way to the swimming pool again. Sebastian was nowhere in sight, though Ciel remained wading in the shallow end. He must have splashed the butler with water after she had left. Her eyes were drawn to this big puddle of water where Sebastian had been standing. Tempest looked over her shoulder to see if he was returning. She saw no movement or even the smallest sign that Sebastian was heading back towards the pool.

Tempest hesitantly untied the bathrobe. It slipped over her bare shoulders easily and pooled around her feet. Ciel glanced briefly in her direction, only to just as quickly look away.

Secretly, Ciel kept himself busy just to avoid her. He didn't honestly need to travel outside of the mansion to do business. Yet, he couldn't stand to be in the same place with her. Tempests' scent, her eyes, her face, her_ body_ were appealing to him in ways they shouldn't have. In a hundred years, he'd seen a woman's nude body before in an incident that would never be spoken of ever again. He was prudent. A true, and immortal, product of his era. He feared he was turning into a young version of Sebastian. But these impulses felt so very natural, with all the strength of ten demons behind it. So he'd just have to be stronger.

Tempest climbed right into the pool, treading to the deeper end. He released a small sigh of relief. At least she wouldn't be so close to him. Unwittingly tempting him. He closed his eye to avoid getting a peek at her swimming in that skimpy bathing suit. Sebastian would pay for this dearly. Without a doubt, Sebastian knew of Ciel's struggles. This swim suit happened to be bait. He proved himself to be a sadist a long time ago, deriving some kind of twisted pleasure in watching Ciel as he struggled with certain predicaments. This, _this_ was by far his most devious trick ever. The two piece suit displayed Tempest's beautifully pale skin in the noon-day sun, her skin seemingly in battle with the radiant sun to see who is the fairest. He didn't even need to open his eye to see her. The image of her in that suit had already been burned into memory. An image which brought out _feelings _Ciel was completely unfamiliar with.

Ciel slowly opened his eye, finding Tempest floating peacefully at the other end. If it concerned him if her dress rode up past her knees, her bare legs sent him nearly of the edge of self-control. The abrasions on her stomach had vanished. Nothing remained of her accident. It returned to its proper shade. Her black hair formed a wide halo about her head on the water's surface. Having spent enough time bathing in the sunlight, she dove beneath the water and returned to the surface, her hair dripping over her fair shoulders. Ultimately, Ciel didn't like this fiery, burning sensation growing hotter in his stomach, but he didn't know for sure how to control it. Plucking out his only useful eye was out of the question.

Tempest went over to one edge of the pool, moving along the wall towards the shallow end. Ciel concealed a look of worry. She moved in closer. Tempest dove into the water again, then resurfaced. She was totally oblivious to his worrisome thoughts. Had she known, Tempest would have scampered out of there in a flash. She wouldn't waste a second. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who was a good actor.

Ciel waded in the pool in silence while Tempest relaxed and enjoyed herself. He looked towards the mansion. Either Sebastian was taking his sweet time or he did this on purpose. Ciel's patience had a limitation and that blasted butler knew it. He could see Sebastian smirking at the thought of Ciel struggling with his impulses. If he didn't show up in the next minute or so, Ciel feared he would do something he might regret.

Try as he might, his eye was drawn to her. Watching how the ends of her hair lapped in and out of the water. How the sunlight glistened off her wet skin. The curves of her… _chest_.

_Damn you, Sebastian! _Ciel cursed.

Tempest waded in the pool, just feet away, a sitting duck, an oblivious and innocent lamb to the slaughter. Sebastian owned a sick sense of humor for putting his master through this torture, though that needn't be said more than once.

Ciel inhaled sharply. His skin felt like it had been set on fire. The cool water did little to relieve this heat bursting out of his flesh. Maybe he didn't love her. However, love and lust are two different things. He would argue later which of the two he had. Right now, he had bigger things to worry. Subconsciously, he came over to her; his feet no longer obeying his brain. Tempest looked startled at his sudden approach. Ciel looked her dead in the eye, freezing her to the spot. She opened her mouth to say something, possibly to protest. Words were lost in her throat.

Ciel cornered her. Trapped between his arms, Tempest had no room to swim underneath him. He backed her into a corner in the shallow end. She swallowed hard.

"C-Ciel?" She managed to whisper.

He said not a word. His head leaned forward, his long bangs shading his eye in a dramatic way. Ciel placed his index finger over his lips to quiet her. He felt Tempest's heart rate quicken. Her bright blue eyes were left wide open like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. She looked even more innocent and tempting all at once. He pecked her cheek, moving slowly. He kissed the corner of her jaw. Tempest shivered as he ran his tongue deftly along the lobe of her ear. He didn't know why he did it. Alois Trancy found it so bloody fascinating, not that Ciel was trying to imitate an old and long-dead enemy of his. He just…didn't know what on earth he was doing. In the first time of his life, Ciel Phantomhive had temporarily lost his sanity.

Well, when it came to a woman.

All Ciel think of was her pucker lips, trembling out of anxiety, out of fear of what he might do next. He leaned towards her face; inching ever so carefully.

_He's going to kiss me again. But, but he looks like a kid! _Tempest screamed.

Ciel moved too fast for her to stop him. He suddenly planted one on her without further hesitation. He continued to look at her with his one magenta eye.

_I can't do this! He looks like a kid! _Tempest broke off the kiss and pushed her arms out in front of her. Ciel was pushed back, much to his own surprise. He watched as Tempest speedily got out of the pool and grabbed the bathrobe as she fled.

Tempest narrowly brushed past Sebastian, who was now nice and dry.

"May I ask why she was in such a hurry, sir?" Sebastian entered the pool deck once more.

"No." Ciel turned away from him, bitter, angry, and discombobulated with his own actions.

"Then would you like to hear good news then?"

Ciel didn't say anything nor did he nod in response.

"I took so long because an informant called in. I know where Undertaker is residing nowadays. In Northern Ireland. Same profession as before. I've already booked three tickets, if you wish to take Tempest with you."

"That will do for now."

"Yes, my lord."


	22. The Witch of New York City

Lillian watered the various potted flora and fauna around her flower shop. She expected many customers today. The day was bright and clear. People seemed to buy flowers on sunny days more often than on days when it looked dreary. Her bright green nails nearly matched the foliage of a ficus bush. She pushed her long, auburn bangs out of her face. Lillian had just three things in the world she truly cared for, her plants, her priceless amounts of jewelry and the vast collection of nail polish she owned, and her adopted son, whom she liked to call her _little Jack_.

It had been three years since he had been sent away to the Bellevue mental institution. For an immortal, it should have been a flash in her memory. However, with Jacobi as her only child and family, Lillian could barely keep herself distracted. She hadn't come up with a plan to steal him away yet from that horrible prison of his, not without revealing the whole supernatural world. She learned not to cry in public, to not appear as a grief-stricken mother. But even immortals have some tears to shed.

The silver bell above the door chimed. Lillian had her back turned away from the entrance. She looked over her shoulder and put on the sweetest smile she could and trying to not make it look forced. The watering can slipped from her delicate fingers. The bottom of her long black skirt was drenched. She knew this man, a beast with the face of a man.

"Bon jour, mademoiselle. I have come to ask for your assistance." The demon smirked at the witch who was so struck by his fearful and dark presence.

Lillian cursed in French, and then spit into a flower pot of unseeded soil. She picked up her skirts as if meaning to leave. The demon caught her arm before she could get very far.

"You haven't even heard what I want from you."

"I know who you are, _Monsieur Diable._ Damon. That is all I need to know," Lillian pulled her arm out of his grasp. She smoothly, but quickly went behind the counter. She went for the blessed salt she kept hidden in a drawer for occasions such as these. With a flick of her wrist, a knife appeared in her hand. The top of the bag was slit open. Her hand scooped up just a little, tossing it in front of her. She sprinkled some more and formed an uneven square around her.

Damon couldn't have reached over to stop her. Lillian had no need to sprinkle the salt. Being left alone in the bag was good enough to keep him at bay. The invisible barrier was only a precaution in case he brought friends.

"Blessed salt? What a clever witch you are." Damon seemed almost impressed by the witch's ability to defend herself.

"I've had _many_ years to practice. Now, I suggest you leave, _Monsieur Diable. _I am not a woman to be trifled with." Lillian sneered.

"Your _kind_ always helps others. Is it not part of your curse to help anyone who comes to you? Whether man or a devil? As a gray witch, you are neither good nor evil. Part of your curse is that you cannot turn anyone away as long as what they ask for does not harm or kill anyone else directly."

"If I find the payment agreeable. Nothing is free," her green eyes were flashing with anger. This demon knew her kind too well. A devil with that kind of intimate information was not a devil to be trusted. Not that they were many trust-worthy demons to begin with.

"Your 'little Jack' is held up in a mental institution and you have no way to get him out because in the eyes of the law, you're not his mother, adopted or otherwise. In fact, you both should be rotting in the ground if not for your curse of immortality. If you tried to rescue him, you'd run the risk of putting not only yourself, but the whole of the supernatural world center stage. You'll be punished not only by the human world who fear all of us, but by your peers, every devil, beast, banshee, ghoul, death god, and any other entity I haven't named. Wiping any memories won't cover it nowadays, will it? You'd have to take apart all the cameras and security they have and…"

"ENOUGH!" Lillian razed her knife in his direction. Her fist shook with rage. She couldn't save her son, not without help. But she would rather turn to dust than help a foul demon like him.

"I'll take that as a 'no?'" He raised his hands up in defense. Normally he wouldn't back down from a fight, but he was weak. He hadn't fully recovered from a fight with a certain butler. It wasn't just that either. Gray witches were highly unstable, personality wise and in their powers. They were literally split in two. Overall, they were complicated and difficult to handle, gray witches weren't the kind of people even a demon would willingly work with unless it was his last resort.

"Get...out." Lillian gritted her teeth.

Damon stepped towards the door, facing her. There remained but one more thing he had to ask.

"What do you know of Ciel Phantomhive?" Damon watched her eyes cool down. Confusion now swept through the emerald pools.

"'Ciel Phantomhive?' You're a demon. You should know these things. Personally, I believe he's nothing more than a legend. There hasn't been a transformation from a mortal to a demon in over five thousand years, excluding vampires of course. Demons are born, not made from human flesh and bone."

Damon didn't think very long. He silently left the flower shop, thinking to himself. _If Ciel Phantomhive is just an urban legend, then who was that child I saw in Tempest's dressing room and why did he have a butler. It can't be a coincidence. A one-eyed child with the aura of a demon and a butler? He has to be him! However, I won't be sure until I find him. And when I do, I'll cut him into a thousand pieces. Tempest belongs to _me!


	23. Of Blindfolds and Planes

Tempest fiddled with her the hem of her jacket as she sat impatiently in her seat. She began biting her lower lip as she looked out the window to her right. She was on a plane, heading to England to see the father she had never before met, who was apparently a supernatural entity to boot. Sebastian sat in the middle, just as she begged him. Tempest felt uneasy after the swimming pool incident. Admittedly, and though she would deny it if she was ever to be asked the question, Ciel was cute. For a demon that is. But he wasn't cute enough to kiss when she was clearly an adult. Technically he was over a hundred years; however on-lookers would just see a kid lip-locking a 22 year old woman. She would be a pedophile and then word would spread and she'd never work in the theater again.

Tempest recalled the events of the morning just as the pilot announced to the passengers the imminent take off.

_Sebastian entered the bedroom just as Tempest was waking up. He placed her new clothes at the foot of the bed as usual. He smiled, but said not a word. He was most certainly hiding something, Tempest could tell. She'd been watching the butler long enough to figure out when he was holding something behind his back, metaphorically speaking of course. _

_Tempest dressed after a quick bath. She scrubbed her skin until it was raw as though she was trying to rid herself of some unseen layer of filth. Her finger accidently ran against her jaw where Ciel kissed. She froze immediately. She shut her eyes and shivered. Something about that kiss seemed entirely wrong, sick, perverted, disgusting, and shockingly and disgustingly pleasurable. Tempest nearly threw up at the idea of it. Sour bile rose in her throat. She was 22 years old and she had been kissed by a child-like demon. She had to find a way out of this madhouse soon or go mad herself. _

_Ciel was nowhere to found, neither was Sebastian. This seemed odd, even for them. Sebastian never left without the 'young master' or vice versa for that matter. The only time that butler left his master's side was to run errands. Tempest had seen him. He left behind her clothes for that day. He couldn't have gone far. Something was off. Tempest didn't like it one bit. _

"_Hello?" Tempest called out. The corridor echoed, filling the walls with the sound of her voice, but no one replied. Cautiously she stepped out of the safety of the room. _

_Tempest ventured further, glancing every now and then over her shoulder to make sure neither one of them would sneak up behind her. She made her way to the grand staircase. Several suitcases were packed, stacked, and ready to go at the foot of the stairs. Tempest's mind tried to come up with an explanation, though this situation was all too confusing. _

Why would they need so many bags? By the looks of it, they're going far away for a long while. They couldn't possibly leave me here all myself for a long time? _Tempest thought. _

_Before she could even begin to descend the stairs, a black cloth was suddenly tied around her head. Tempest's vision was suddenly taken from her. All she could feel was someone's tall, strong frame behind her. _

"_Do forgive me, Miss Tempest, but the young master insisted." Sebastian's voice spoke from behind her. He placed a hand on her waist and guided her slowly down the stairs. _

"_W-where are you taking me?" Tempest asked in a nervous voice. _

"_On a trip," was all that the butler replied with._

Now there she was. Tempest guessed they weren't too far off the coast and that they were on an island owned by the United States. But how they got her passport must have been a miracle. She hadn't had that thing renewed in three years. The last time she used it was to visit Canada where her grandmother retired. According to the late grandmother in question, things were too chaotic in the states.

"What's my father like anyway?" Tempest directed her question to Ciel, though she didn't even glance towards Ciel for more than a second.

"He's a wild card. A madman and a degenerate. And yet, he is someone to fear too. You shouldn't worry, though. He has not used his abilities to bring about evil, except for this one time, however that's an entirely different story. He has no idea that we, that is Sebastian and I, are going to meet with him in over a hundred years. He probably doesn't know of your existence either," Ciel explained.

This worried and frightened her. What sort of man was her father? If he was anything like Ciel said, Tempest didn't know if she wanted to meet her father in the first place. A madman? A degenerate? Would he even want her to begin with if and when he found out that she was his only child? As troubled as she may have been on the outside, Tempest somehow nodded off. When she woke up again, Sebastian switched seats with Ciel. He turned towards her and whispered.

"My butler takes order from _me._" His face was stern, but other than that he posed no threat. Not that he was dumb enough to try anything on a plane full of passengers.

Tempest turned to look through the window. The sky was dark. Night had already come swiftly. They were probably half way across the Atlantic. Dark clouds never boasted good tidings for her. Every time a storm arose, something ended up going terribly wrong. Damon visited her mom during a storm. He killed her mother during a storm. Ciel's second attempt to eat her soul and the very event which snow-balled down to _this_ had the beginnings of a storm. Ciel even had witnessed her weakest moment, her biggest vulnerability and greatest fear because of a storm. Though the sky seemed on the brink of one, the possibility was slim. They would have checked it before the plane ever took off in the first place. The sky happened to look dark. Yet, Tempest couldn't shake this strange feeling growing in her stomach. A feeling of fear and anxiety. She somehow sensed that when she returned, if she returned, nothing would ever go back to the way it was before she met Ciel.


	24. Don't Fear the Reaper

On a London train, heading west towards the country side, Tempest fiddled with her thumbs. Sick with impatience and nervousness, she had already bitten through her lower lip. She gripped a handkerchief spotted with blood tightly in her fingers. Tempest kept her eyes downward. The sky was grey, at least not a dark grey. The overall feeling from the sky was gloomy, yet not overcast.

Tempest glanced up at Ciel, who seemed busy reading a newspaper. Sebastian disappeared somewhere, only mentioning that he was getting up to check the schedule. They had been sitting across from each other for several minutes. Wherever Sebastian disappeared to and whatever he was going, he was taking his sweet time getting back. He seemed to like causing not only Ciel pain, but he must have enjoyed seeing the worry-wrinkles form along her forehead. Their situation was delicate enough and their last private encounter was _awkward_ in the very least and at the most, mortifying to monstrous proportions.

Something bugged Tempest. Something about Ciel seemed off. She had to ask just one question, though she was afraid to ask. Inhaling deeply, Tempest gathered up some confidence.

"You confuse me, you know that. Why are going through all this trouble to have me see my father, a man I have never met? Surely, you have better things to do with your life than drag me all the way to England to see him?" Tempest surprised herself by how calm she was able to keep her voice.

Ciel folded the newspaper and put it aside. He looked at her with his usual face of indifference.

"Quite frankly, I haven't the slightest clue. Common sense would have me leave you alone. Back in my day, we didn't socialize with actresses…"

"Because they were of the lowest class," Tempest continued for him.

"How did you know that?" Ciel looked as if he was mildly surprised with her knowledge.

"I get lots of inspiration from the Victorian Era. It's my favorite time period," she said with a blush. Tempest was reluctant to tell him that. Being from that period, Ciel's ego may increase if she told him that the Victorian Era was her favorite period, she feared.

"I see," he thought for a moment. "Anyway, as I was saying before, I wouldn't be doing this for a stranger."

Ciel rose from his seat and went to the sliding door of the compartment. At first, Tempest thought he was going to see where Sebastian had gone off to. Instead, he pulled down the tawny curtains, completely shielding the inside from any passers-by. Tempest swallowed hard. There remained no doubt that Ciel was planning to do something bold, very bold. Ciel turned on his heel slowly, placing his gaze firmly on Tempest who sat nervously in her seat now.

"I wouldn't do such a kindness to anyone without payment. Not even for someone like you," he continued.

"Someone like…me?" Tempest gripped the handkerchief tighter in her hands, nearly shredding it.

Ciel sat next to her and stretched his gloved hand out to lightly touch her cheek. Tempest trembled just a little beneath his touch. Even through the glove, his skin felt cold.

"The moment I saw you on that stage, the only thing I could think of was consuming your soul. How sweet and delicious it would have been, especially compared to the vile souls I've been living off of for the past one hundred and twenty-three years. I kept thinking to myself, 'if I could just get a taste of her soul, maybe I could for once feel satisfied."

His finger lazily drew invisible circles on her cheek.

"And when I couldn't obtain it, I grew mad with unsatisfied hunger. I wanted you, but I couldn't devour your soul as I originally intended. Demons can't feel love or hatred. They can't become attached to anyone. It is in our very nature to be cold, cruel, and hungry beasts. But one thing is certain; we don't like to lose our prey to anyone. Even if I can't eat it, I still want to have your soul, even if now it means you're immortal."

Ciel suddenly went back to his seat across from her. He wore a coy smile.

"I'm still very much like a child. I don't like to share and I'm selfish. Until you cease to amuse me, you'll be stuck with me for a while." He picked up his newspaper again and began to read.

Tempest breathed sharply through her nose. His words incensed her to the point where she had to say something and stand up for herself. She didn't care at the moment if he was a demon or not, she had enough of being treated like property. Tempest got to her feet and snatched the newspaper away. She glared at Ciel whose face fell back into a look of indifference.

"Listen to me, you. I may be here against my own free will and you may be a big, bad demon, but I've had it with you demons treating me like I'm a plaything. I'm not here to entertain you. And now that I'm fully recovered, I can assure you that I'm going to find a way to escape once we get back to the states."

"You can try. Let's have another wager. If you can escape within a week after we arrive back in New York, you're free to go. Fail to do so and I get to keep you around for as long as I want."

"You are a sadistic kid, you know that?" Tempest sneered, remembering the last time she put her freedom at stake. She lost the first chance she was given. At least now her body could handle an escape.

"I'm highly aware of that."

Meanwhile, on the other end of the train….

Sebastian had felt a familiar presence onboard the train ever since they first stepped foot inside. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but until he found out why he couldn't sit down and relax. The familiar presence grew stronger as he headed for the engine. Suddenly, the car and all the others lurched forward. Some fell to the floor at the abrupt change of speed. Sebastian easily managed to keep his feet firmly on the floor. From the end of the car, he spotted a scrawny young fellow reentering a compartment. From his position, it looked like he had just entered from the car in front. And the young man had a certain feature behind his thick glasses which caused Sebastian to cringe slightly: green-yellow eyes, the eyes of a grim reaper.

The passengers all around were starting to panic at the sudden jerk and the increasing speed of the train. Some were already dialing on their cell phones, voices panicking through the doors. Curious, Sebastian crept towards the compartment he just watched the death god enter. He seemed to have forgotten to shut the door all the way.

"Well, how did it go, Toothpicks?" A woman with a cockney accent asked. Sebastian didn't bother trying to look through the window at the risk of being caught.

"My name is Gregory, Miss Bathory, and yes, Mr. Burns died of a heart attack and his soul was judged as proper. At 2:15, the train will derail. The body count will be 57 out a hundred passengers. Five will be unaccounted for."

"Five? Are you sure about that?" The woman asked.

"Yes, I don't know how to explain it Miss Bathory. You and I count for two of the passengers, but there are three more that won't be accounted for later." The boy answered nervously.

"And why is that?" The woman's voice cracked with anger. Sebastian could sense her irritation growing.

"I-I don't know, ma'am. We were only given information about the passengers who were going to die today. It isn't our business to know about the survivors."

"Whatever, Toothpicks. I'm going out for a smoke before this whole mess goes down," a pair of boots, and not high heels like Sebastian half expected, made their way to the door.

Sebastian ran out of the way, but couldn't get out of the car fast enough. The woman saw him.

"Hey, you!" She shouted.

Sebastian slowly turned around. The woman wasn't a normal grim reaper, though he had his fair share of the abnormal ones too. She stood at least five feet and eight inches tall with the body of an athlete and olive-toned skin. Her green eyes burned behind a pair of circular black frames. Her hair was the most interesting feature she had to offer, dark brown and curly with blonde Bride of Frankenstein streaks tied behind her head in a high pony-tail, thick bangs curtained her forehead. She wore black from her sleeveless shirt that sported an iron-on patch of a pin-up zombie girl over the pocket to her biker boots on her not so dainty sounding feet. Her nails were painted a slimy green that nearly matched the color of the zombie pin-up girl on her shirt.

He noticed that she carried a small coffin on her back. It measured to half of her height. Since he couldn't see where else the woman would put it, Sebastian guessed that the coffin contained her reaping tool.

The woman named Bathory, or at least that was her last name, marched up to him, hands stuffed inside her pockets.

"You're not going anywhere," she spoke, eyes glued to him.

Sebastian tensed, preparing for a fight. This grim reaper didn't look she was the kind to back down from a fight and having never fought a _female_ grim reaper before; he didn't know what to expect. He waited. The sounds of her boots marching towards him overcame the sounds the panicked passengers. The woman pushed him against the wall behind him, unexpectedly. Sebastian, who had the skills and prowess of an incubus, was temporarily stunned by this strange woman.

"You're not going anywhere," she reached into her shirt pocket and produced a small index card, "Without my number."

She pressed her body against his indiscriminately. The softness of her chest brushed against his hard chest. Her hand slipped the card into his tailcoat pocket with all the dexterity of the greatest pickpocket in the world.

"Beatrix, Beatrix Bathory, at your service," she whispered in his ear.

Beatrix backed away slowly, grinning like a Cheshire. Her pierced tongue swiped over her red lips as she eyed Sebastian like a piece of meat. This was a first for the demon in question. Usually, he'd have to approach a woman for her to react. Beatrix winked at him before cheerfully spinning on her heels.

"See ya later, gorgeous," she tossed her hand in the air as she gave him once last glance over her shoulder. The grim reaper slipped through the other door, presumably to smoke her cigarette.

_This chapter has been brought to you by the Horrorpops, bringing psycho-billy music out of the closet since 2012._


	25. How to Jump off a Speeding Train

Sebastian rushed back to the young master's compartment. He pushed open the doors and found Tempest standing in front of Ciel, glaring. Her glare was turned on him and so was her anger.

"Do you mind, we were kind of having a conversation here," she uncharacteristically snapped.

Sebastian entered, despite Tempest's angry stare. The door slammed shut behind him.

"Young master, we seem to have a problem." Sebastian ignored Tempest and brushed past her.

"What kind of problem?" Ciel asked. He didn't like the look on his butler's face.

"Apparently, the conductor suffered a heart attack and perished. This train is going to derail in…"He looked at his watch. "Fifteen minutes. I highly recommend we do something before the reapers that are on board figure out who we are."

"Reapers?" Ciel repeated.

Sebastian nodded. "Indeed, sir. I sensed them when we first boarded. They are five cars ahead of us. Since we are on a tight schedule, I do believe you should make a decision on what we should do before this train crashes."

Ciel thought for a moment. He glanced only once at Tempest, who was shaken by the shocking news.

"Then we're going to have to job off the train in the next five minutes and find the nearest town." Ciel said finally.

"W-what?" Tempest stammered.

Ciel rose to his feet again. "We have no choice. If they catch us, you're going to be caught in the middle of a fight. They won't care if we are simply on board a train on the wrong day at the wrong time. All they'll know is that we, Sebastian and I, are demons and this train is going to derail and without a doubt kill a good number of people. These reapers will assume we are after the souls of the dying. You can come with us willingly or I'll have Sebastian fling you over his shoulder and haul you off like sack of potatoes."

"You must be joking? You're forgetting a very important detail here! When a human jumps off a train, they usually end up with a few broken bones. At this speed, I could be killed. You're forgetting that you two are the only ones in this compartment that can jump off a speeding train and brush the dust off your coats afterwards. I'm not going to be so lucky."

"But you're not a human, not entirely. Your father is a reaper, you're forgetting that. It just takes one parent to make you immortal. Think of it like this, if you're here when the train derails, do you want to risk being injured and sent to a hospital without official paperwork saying that you can be in the United Kingdom?" Ciel replied.

"T-that's black mail." Tempest shouldn't have so surprised by his response.

"It is, isn't it," Ciel added with a smirk.

Sebastian slid the door open. "I suggest we move along now, sir. We haven't much time left."

Ciel nodded and he motioned for Tempest to follow.

"What about the luggage?" Tempest asked following behind him closely.

"They can be replaced."

The three of them climbed out onto the railing, shutting the door behind them. Everyone on board was so nervous they hardly noticed them leave. Tempest could barely hear anything with the wind hurling past her ears. Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted off of her feet. Sebastian had scooped her up and put his hands at her waist and beneath her thighs.

"What are you doing?" Her cheeks turned a new shade of red.

"Since you seem so nervous about jumping, I told him that he should carry you," Ciel put his foot against the iron bar, preparing to leap onto the ground when the opportunity seemed right for him.

"Please, bear with it for the time being, miss." Sebastian grinned down at her.

"Just keep your hands where I can see them." Tempest muttered.

In a flash, they jumped. Naturally, the demons landed softly in the grass with grace. Tempest gladly leapt out of Sebastian's arms. She watched the train speed off into the distance. Her heart cringed when she heard the awful sound of the wheels speeding off the tracks. Crunching metal and screams filled the air. She turned to Ciel, eyes pleading.

"There's nothing we can do. We can't interfere, even if we wanted to. We can't save them without being noticed. I'm sorry." Ciel crossed the tracks.

Tempest stood there, watching smoke rise over a hill. She stood there for several minutes before making over the tracks herself. She reluctantly followed Ciel through a field of wild grass. She turned her head once more towards the train wreck. Sebastian put his hand on her shoulder.

"There's really nothing you could have done." Spoke Sebastian.


	26. Contest

Since there was such a great response from the previous contest, and because I'm bored, here's another. This time I want you guys to come up a reaping tool for Tempest. I don't want anything like the typical reaping tools (chainsaws, various sharp gardening tools). I want something interesting. Swords are acceptable, but not scissors. Be creative.


	27. Like Father, Like Daughter

They came upon a two-story farm house at the top of the tallest hill in the countryside. The owner appeared to be leaving in his beat-up, rusty truck. He spotted the three travelers approaching. Tempest thought she saw him cross himself, but she couldn't tell for sure. Sebastian went up to the farm first, obviously to ask for assistance. Ciel and Tempest stood feet away, watching the conversation happen before their eyes. The farmer scratched his head and then nodded. He pointed to the back of his truck and put himself in the driver's seat. Sebastian returned to his master shortly after.

"The gentleman is willing to give us a ride to town. Coincidently, he's going to the same place we are. He says it will take no more than twenty to thirty minutes to arrive at the village," explained Sebastian.

"And I suppose we're sitting in the back of that _thing_," Ciel indicated to the rusty vehicle.

Sebastian nodded. "I regretfully apologize for the lack of refinery, but it is the best we can do at such short notice. Unless you'd rather walk, sir?"

"No." Ciel grumbled.

They climbed into the back of the truck. The farmer gave them a look. He still didn't understand how and why three nicely dressed people were in need for a ride to a small village. The farmer never bothered to ask them. The butler told him that he would be rewarded, so he couldn't complain too much and they were going to the same village anyway. The woman traveling with them looked oddly familiar. Something about her face reminded him of someone but he couldn't put his finger on it.

They drove past the train wreck, which already had emergency technicians on the scene. Tempest didn't want to look. She felt guilty that she couldn't even help one person. Perhaps Sebastian was right? Maybe there wasn't anything she could have done after all? She hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face so that they wouldn't see her cry. When she was done, Tempest stretched her legs out, thankful that she wore pants today. The demons sat on the other side of the truck, giving her the much needed space. She was still upset with Ciel and with what he had said earlier.

As they travelled down the dusty road, billowing dirt behind them, Tempest realized that she was about to meet her father very shortly. What was he going to say? More importantly, what was she going to say?

_Hello, you might not know me, Mr. Undertaker, but I'm your illegitimate daughter. You slept with my mother twenty-years ago and she returned to the United States pregnant with me. By the way, she also sold her soul to a demon so I could see again because apparently I inherited yours eyes and was pronounced legally blind. That same demon wants to make me his sex toy for the rest of eternity and I'm also being held captive by these two, whom you may have known a hundred or so years ago. _

At least there was no pressure to make up a story that sounded much more _realistic_ to cover up the truth. If her father had been human, it would have been hard to explain a few things. And now that she thought about it, Ciel never really answered her question. Why was he doing this for her? If he expected some sort of payment, he couldn't possibly mean he'd make her pay for this? If he did, what on earth could it be? Tempest didn't particularly want to think about that at the moment. The wheels in her head were turning. Her heart was pounding inside her chest. Her hands started shaking. She looked over to her 'companions.'

Ciel looked irritated and Sebastian kept a composed mask. Neither one of them seemed even slightly bent out of shape emotionally about this. Of course, they weren't the ones who were on their way to meet the man who impregnated your mother and never knew of your existence for the past twenty-two years. The demons in question had no reason to be nervous. It had been upon Ciel's insistence that she meet him in the first place, though why he was going through all this trouble still bothered Tempest a great deal.

The journey to the village lasted longer than expected. Tempest took a deep breath and looked around when the truck came to a full stop at the stony gate. Sebastian handed the farmer his due. The farmer stared at his hand, then looked up, half shocked and half grateful. Sebastian merely grinned. Without another word or a 'thank you', the farmer drove off into the village, nearly giddy with excitement about his reward. Tempest didn't have any idea how much he had been rewarded for his services, but judging by the look on his face she saw in the side mirror's reflection, it must have been a lot.

Tempest turned her gaze to the sign above the ancient gate proclaiming the village as Ebonyshire. Past the gates, the village itself was where past met the present. Many of the houses and stores were the remnants of medieval cottages yet at the top of these old edifices were satellite dishes and antennae's. Old women wore cotton scarves over their heads while the granddaughters sported miniskirts. Tempest could see a small convent up towards this dark looking forest, sitting on a hill outside the village. A large cemetery lay just beyond it, a layer of thin fog floated over it. A woman in her thirty's brushed against her while she chatted away on her cell phone. She stopped to apologize and then, strangely enough, stood there for a minute or two, just staring at Tempest. Tempest saw her cock her head both ways, eyes twinkling with recognition.

"You…you look familiar. You can't be new around 'ere, can you?" She shifted her phone away from her mouth.

"I'm an American. This is my first time here." Tempest responded nervously. Her voice nearly cracked from the nervousness building up in her stomach. This uneasiness nearly made her vomit.

The woman with the cell phone shrugged, but her face still seemed portrayed her thoughts. She looked as if she seen Tempest's face before, but she didn't know from where. Tempest had seen this face before on the farmer. Maybe her father was here after all?

"Come now, Miss Tempest. We have much to do and less time to do it," Sebastian took the lead.

It seemed clear that Ciel and Sebastian knew where they were going. They headed deeper and deeper into the village, leaving Tempest to trail behind them. The stores became fewer as they drew nearer to the cemetery. Lo and behold, the funeral home stood out like a sore thumb. Tempest formed the idea in her head that her father's place of work would be…how to put it…normal? What she was now looking at was so far from what she imagined it to look like.

Wrought iron fences with dangerously pointy spikes guarded the unkempt lawn. The walls of the Victorian house were painted a dull grey. The shingles of the house were black. There stood but one tree and it appeared that it hadn't been taken of in years. Its bark was blackened with age and neglect. Its leafless limbs bent towards one side in a gloomy fashion. Weeds were the one thing that seemed abundant and the only thing that managed to survive.

Remarkably none of the windows were cracked or broken. The thin layer of dust and grime should have been removed, but at least the windows were a total loss. Past the dust, dark curtains hung in front of all the windows. Nothing could be seen in or out. A single light on the wrap-around porch flickered.

Then, much in Undertaker's style, a big, bulky sign sat above the porch that said : Morgue. Short, sweet, and to the point. Some would say that the skull on the sign was a bit much, but this was Undertaker. You can't simply win an argument with him, especially when it came to his own advertisement.

"What do you make of it?" Ciel asked.

Tempest shook herself from mental fog.

"I would certainly have the windows washed and the lawn fertilized, but I don't think I'd change much of anything. I defiantly like the tree, though. The tree can stay."

"She shares her father's aesthetics," Tempest heard Sebastian whisper to Ciel.


	28. How You Met Your Father

"Well?" Ciel spoke at last. The three of them had been standing outside the fence for almost ten minutes.

"A well is a deep subject," Tempest blurted out. Sarcasm was her last refuge at the moment. It was either that or insanity. Ciel had the easy part. She was moments away from meeting her father.

"Are you going to stand there all day? Or are you going to come in?" He pouted.

"Do I have any choice?"

"Not really."

"Splendid." Tempest remained rooted where she stood.

"Sebastian…" Was all Ciel had to say before Sebastian lifted Tempest off her feet once more and tossed her over his broad shoulder.

Immediately, Tempest started kicking and screaming, anything to keep him from going any further. Sebastian had a high tolerance for pain and her screaming was more of a nuisance really. He'd heard things far more annoying. Sebastian carried her to the porch and then dropped her on her feet. She tried to make a break for it, but his arm caught her around the waist. Ciel walked up the creaking porch steps last. He rang the doorbell as Sebastian struggled to keep Tempest from running off. She had lost all the demeanor of an adult woman and reversed into a little child who was trying to get away from the dentist.

A brunette answered the door. She dressed in all-black attire, naturally due to her career. Her hair was tied into a tight bun behind her head with a pencil sticking out of it at an angle. She adjusted her glasses which were slipping down the bridge of her narrow nose.

"Can I help you?" She glanced at Tempest who was currently attempting to wriggle herself free from Sebastian's arm.

"We have an appointment with your employer," Sebastian answered, not in the least bit distracted.

Ciel turned to him, his brow raised. "I didn't tell you to do that."

"What sort of a butler would I be if I couldn't manage a small reunion between a father and daughter?"

The woman's grey eyes grew wide for a moment. She took a second glance at Tempest, whose energy was now failing her. Her brows furrowed, but she said not a word. She stepped back out of the door and pulled open the door. Ciel entered and then Sebastian half dragged and half carried Tempest through the entryway. Tempest grabbed hold of the posts with an iron grip.

"I changed my mind! I don't want to go through with this!" She yelled.

Undertaker's assistant disappeared through the waiting room door, not wanting to get herself involved.

"We're already here, so you might as well go through with it. Now stop acting like a child." Ciel barked.

Tempest calmed down and let go of the door posts. Sebastian shut the door before she could change her mind again and slip through. They entered the waiting room. The one thing that surprised Ciel was Undertaker's change in taste, although the lack of coffins may have been due to the new, modern cliental. Then again, he managed to keep a coffin for a coffee table. Tempest plopped down unceremoniously on a burgundy loveseat, overstuffed and velvety. She brought her thumb to her mouth and began chewing on her fingernail. Her blue eyes flitted quickly across the room. She appeared to be like a frightened doe caught in headlights.

The assistant returned again.

"Boss wants to see you two first," she gestured to Ciel and Sebastian. She remained in the room as they went past to the corridor. The assistant sat down next to Tempest.

"Are you related to Boss?" She asked, taking a long, hard look at the girl's face.

"I don't know for sure. I was dragged here because of a hunch. The only thing I know for sure is that my mom was knocked up by some Brit. She didn't tell me much about it or who my father might have been." Tempest didn't try to look at the woman next to her. She was so nervous her hands started shaking again.

"Well, in any case, my name is Margaret Lynn, Margie for short," the assistant extended her hand.

Tempest reluctantly shook it. "Tempest Stayne, but my real name is Emilie McIntyre."

"Emilie McIntyre? Where have I heard that name before?" Margaret scratched her chin.

In Undertaker's office…

The office was dimly lit, the windows blocked by large coffins. A black iron chandelier hung from the ceiling, draping with a mesh of spider webs. Candles of every size, shape, and color flickered all over the room. Undertaker set two coffins as chairs near his desk, which was also a coffin. The only piece of furniture that could be considered normal was the dated armchair he sat in. His long, bony fingers wrapped around the handle of a coffee mug. A grinning, pink sugar skull with hollow eyes stared back at Ciel.

"The prodigal son finally returns," Undertaker snickered. He flashed surprisingly pearly whites.

"Enough, Undertaker. You know why we're here. Where's the letter?" Ciel demanded.

Undertaker frowned for split second and then his grin widened.

"I believe her exact words were, 'I've always wanted to make love in a coffin.' He he he."

Ciel's eye twitched. "Your vulgarity never ceases to amaze me, Undertaker."

Undertaker began to rifle through his draw. The office became overwhelmed with the sounds of rustling papers and folders.

"Ah, here it is," Undertaker finally whipped out a modern white envelope fattened with a letter inside.

Sebastian took it from him and handed it to his master. Ciel carefully retrieved the paper that was inside. The paper was no more than a few years old, by the look of the paper and by the date stamped neatly at the top of the page. The edges were slightly bent and torn and the ink was smudged in several places. However, the handwritten letter was legible.

_To Whom It May Concern:_

_If you don't remember me, my name is Christina McIntyre, the woman you met in your cemetery. I got myself lost on the way to London from Dublin. It was raining and I needed shelter. I don't even know your name. The only thing you left me was Undertaker. _

_Within a few hours, we became so comfortable with each other we had sex in your office. I'm back in the states now and have been for nearly sixteen years. I'm not saying that I regret it, it was the best I ever had actually ; ) But there is something you should definitely know, something I never got to tell you. When I returned home after our _encounter_, I found myself pregnant. Her name is Emilie. She is yours, I know it. She has your green eyes; I even have pictures to prove it. I want nothing from you. I raised her all by myself and she turned out just fine. _

_I'm writing this now because I don't know how much longer I have. She's legally blind. I found someone who is going to help her see. But his _services _come at a price. She wants to be an actress and I've tried everything to help her, but her blindness is getting in the way. If you're ever in New York and you see her name somewhere, don't hesitate to tell her the truth._

_Sighed, Christina _

"Now what does the little demon earl want of my illegitimate daughter," Undertaker grinned in his normal fashion, contrary to the very serious situation.

"None of your concern."

"Oh? You would think that someone like you would adhere to traditions."

"Traditions?" Undertaker was making even less sense than usual.

"Aren't you supposed to ask for my blessing?" He snickered. Undertaker fell back into his chair, nearly giggling like a little school girl.

Ciel's face lit up. His cheeks turned a shade of red unseen in the history of the human race and for him. He'd never looked so embarrassed, not even when he was human. Spinning quickly on his heels, Ciel left the room, his stomping feet almost crashed through the wood floor. Before he slammed the door behind him, he muttered under his breath, "Lunatic."

"If you'll excuse me for a moment," Sebastian took his leave as well.

Tempest watched as Ciel storm out through the door, eye glaring at some unknown object. Sebastian followed shortly behind, but stayed for a second to look at her.

"You can see him now." He left no other instruction or suggestion when he went after Ciel.

Swallowing hard, Tempest got to her shaking feet. Her knees knocked together. She trudged into the corridor, giving Margie a weak smile from over her shoulder before she ventured there. Down the small corridor, she spotted a purple-painted door with a sign hanging crookedly from a rusty nail jammed in the middle of it. She approached softly, nearly tripping over her own two feet. Tempest raised her hand and stopped herself from knocking. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to think positive. Her reluctant hand came down gently at first, but then her knocks grew louder after the third time.

A rickety voice answered, "YYEESSS?"

Tempest turned the knob ever so slowly….

_I'm evil, aren't I? _


	29. I am your Father

Tempest slowly entered, one foot in front of the other. She squinted in the dim lighting. The man presumed to be her father sat in an armchair, sipping coffee from a black mug, a sugar skull grinning at her. She looked around when her eyes became adjusted to the new lighting. She could defiantly see where she got some of personality from. Her eyes were drawn to him, her curiosity made them stay where they were…on him. Tempest's lungs tightened as she turned her gaze towards her father. The similarities were too numerous. Her black hair she inherited from her mother obviously, but the shape of her eyes and face and the lean, lanky figure was most certainly belonging to her father. He kept grinning.

"I assume those eyes you have aren't the ones you were born with," he pointed both his index fingers to his eyes.

Tempest touched her eyelid. "No." She awkwardly stated. T.V dramas and soap operas had nothing on this. She was meeting her real father after spending her whole childhood, adolescence not knowing him and was now meeting him in her adulthood.

She shut the door behind her.

"What now?" She asked, taking a seat on a coffin.

"You tell me. I have no experience with children and you're meeting me for the first time. Had your mother not written to me six years ago, I wouldn't have known you ever even existed." He tossed her the letter.

Confused, Tempest read the letter silently. She scanned it once, twice, and a third time. Her brain was so absorbed in it; she forgot everything else in her life. Her mother kept the identity of her father from her, eventually taking it to the grave. Until then, that was the situation. Besides the fact that she explicitly confessed to the affair, among other embarrassing details, Christina McIntyre kept it from her. The letter was written some time before Damon gave her new eyes. Tempest wasn't sure to feel sorry for herself or be completely angry with her dead mother. There wasn't anything she could have done at this point. She was dead and it's pointless to seek revenge against the dead. Once they were good and buried, what harm could be done to them?

"M-my mom kept this from me? She never once told me about you or what happened or anything! She knew where you lived and she didn't f*** tell me!" She curled the letter into a paper ball and tossed it over her shoulder. Her fingers knotted into her hair.

Tempest stood up on her feet and made her way to the door. Undertaker caught her by the arm before free hand barely touched the door knob. She whipped her head back, glaring. He now wore a different kind of face. His smile became more an indifferent grimace. It looked unnatural. Tempest turned away, but still wanted to leave. She felt so angry, so betrayed. She couldn't even go home to tell her mom off because she was no longer there. Her mother left behind nothing to Tempest, nothing about her father. Did she think that Tempest wouldn't go out looking for him? All of her frustration, hatred, and anger cemented into tears.

"Let go of my arm," her hoarse voice cracked. "You're not my father. You're a sperm donor." The salty tears stung her eyes. Tempest had never been betrayed before. She hardly had any friends and her mother and grandmother were the only family she ever had. Her mother betrayed her trust. The worst feeling in the world is when someone you love deeply hides something behind their backs, but they won't show.

Tempest felt her knees buckling. Undertaker led her to one of the coffins, sitting her back down. She watched him with tearful eyes pick up the letter and unfolded it. He placed the roughed up paper back into an envelope, stuffing the contents inside a drawer in his desk.

"I'll make some tea," he disappeared out the door.

He returned after several minutes, possibly fifteen to twenty, surprised to find Tempest still sitting there. He poured two cups, adding extra sugar to his, and handing Tempest her own. Only, the cups weren't cups exactly. They were ceramic skulls with shiny glaze. She looked blankly into the contents of her cup, barely managing to keep her tears from ruining the tea. The room became saturated with the sweet smell of the aromatic herbs. Steam climbed up from the skulls like smoke from chimneys, or rather like cauldrons in an evil witch's lair.

"This is no easier for me than it is for you," he spoke with a serious tone, again being unnatural for someone like him. "Yes, I knew you existed. I've known for six years. Whatever your mother did, she wanted someone to know before she…Where is she by the by?"

"She's dead," Tempest wiped her face with her sleeve.

Her father handed her a black handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes and set it aside.

"I bet her funeral was lovely. The best women go out with bang, as they say." Some of Undertaker's true personality popped out, only to die down a little as he drank his tea. He reached for his mug and dumped the contents into the flower pot of dying geranium. The coffee went cold anyway.

"It was a small service. Her friends were able to buy a simple tombstone and her funeral. She left me a small inheritance to use for college."

"What are you studying?"

"I've already graduated. I went to a community college and got a degree in theater production."

"She wrote that you wanted to be an actress. A thespian? How's that working for you?"

"I perform on stage. I never thought of myself as an actress for the screen but I've always loved the theater."

"Good."

Words, sentences, things she should be saying right now were forming inside her head. Tempest's brain went into hyper-drive and wouldn't stop dishing out more and more things to say and to ask, only her mouth decided not to cooperate. Her throat went dry and looking up at Undertaker, she saw him drink silently from his 'cup.' Not wanting to insult him anymore than she may already had, Tempest pressed the cup to her lips and drank in deeply. Cinnamon spice tea. The distinctive taste slipped past her lips and rolled down her tongue. She inhaled deeply the sweet yet fiery herb. It comforted her when nothing else did. Their conversation seemed normal, however the circumstances were far from normal. The situation was abnormal to say the least.

"How did your mother die?" Tempest looked up once more to see Undertaker a different man completely.

His head hung low. His silver locks shadowed his bangs even more so. The apathetic grimace turned into an all-out frown. Undertakes hunched his shoulders. The look on his face and his body language made it clear that he was uncomfortable. But with what?

"I won't lie to you. S-she was murdered by a demon," Undertaker raised his head a little, "No, no, not by either one of those two. By someone else. Someone's who has been trying to, I guess hurt me for a while now."

"He gave you those eyes through a Cosmas contract?"

"Cosmas? The patron saint of doctors?"

"Did you think there was only one kind of contract? Humans aren't limited to what they want. Demons aren't just for servicing young lords," he added with a grin. "Just as humans might not want a butler or a maid to serve them, demons have contracts for other personal needs. As an actress you're familiar with _Faust_, correct?"

"The German opera based on the astronomer-necromancer who sold his soul to the devil. Of course I know it. I played a chorus role in a production when I was 18."

Undertaker nodded. He sipped from his cup again before continuing.

"A Faustian contract is just for those who want a servant of the demonic kind. There's the Cosmas contract, which involves the exchange of body parts and a viable, human soul. There's a contract to get revenge. A contract to make someone else fall in love with you. A contract to help you rule the world. There are contracts that combine two or more of a kind."

"I see."

Undertaker popped right in front of her, hands clasped together underneath the overwhelming sleeves.

"What contract does he have with you?" He asked.

"Contract? We have no contract."

Undertaker seemed surprised and sat down on his desk. "You don't? Then why did he bring you here? Unless he brought you and I together out of the goodness of his heart."

"I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to explain this. It's a rather long story." Tempest bit her lower lip.

"I have time."

Ciel sat impatiently on the sofa. Margaret brought in some refreshments.

"I'm sorry if we don't have finer china. Boss doesn't have very good taste," she poured hot water into a skull shaped mug.

"I'm used to it." Ciel sighed. His eye glanced towards the door leading to the corridor. He desperately wanted to know what Undertaker and Tempest were talking about.

"If you don't mind, why do you call Undertaker 'Boss?' Is that what he goes by now?" Asked Sebastian, as he reached for the mug.

Margaret handed over not only the mug, but the tea bag and sugar. She rolled her eyes, scoffing.

"I'm a _professional_ mortician. I'm working to open my own funeral home. It just so happened that this loon was the only one who had an apprenticeship opening in this county. I call him 'boss' because there's no way I'm calling him Undertaker." She returned the rest of the unneeded tea set to the kitchen.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Ciel mumbled, though his question was not directed to his butler. The question he supposed was to himself.

Tempest appeared suddenly, face masked with a false smile. She had pocket full of cash, if the slight bulge in her pants pocket was any indication. She walked through the room silently. Her eyes were slightly red and watery.

"I need a stiff drink," were the only words that fell from her lips. Tempest could be seen no more as she exited. Ciel ran after her and just barely caught her by the arm.

"Alcohol is hardly the answer to your problems."

Tempest pulled her arm away. She smiled a horribly fake grin. She seemed to say 'I'm only smiling because I don't want you to see how I really feel.'

"When you're old enough to drink, I'll be sure to take your advice," Tempest continued on her way back to the village.


	30. Author's Note 2

So...this is not a good day for me. I've had a horrible birthday because my car broke down and I missed Anime Crossroads, which was supposed to be an early present, and then I read a particular review, and it's the meanest thing I've ever read. I understand there are people who won't like what I write and I understand that people are intitled to their opinions. However, this anonymous reviewer took things too far. I love Kuroshitsuji. How on earth can you say that I'm not a fan? This person pointed out that my fanfiction does not follow the story line and plot of Yana Toboso's work. Of course it doesn't. It's a FANFICTION. If you don't want to read fanfictions like this, don't come here. There are plenty of them on that don't follow the plot. This is a place where fans can write about their favorite characters and be creative without getting in trouble with copyright infringement laws. We write this stuff because we love it. If every fanfiction followed the original plot, would they still be that exciting? Some might say yes, but there are plenty more that wouldn't agree.

This review has made me very sad, only adding to how much crap I've dealt with in the last week. Play nice, kids. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. If you have an opinion, there are ways you can express it without being mean or over critical. I don't know I want to write the next chapter right away because I'm really not in the mood now. I'm sorry for the fans who do appreciate my work and I feel sorry for those sticks in the mud who want to ruin the fun for the rest of us. We write fanfiction because we love anime, movies, cartoons, etc. No bodies complaining about Zutara, even though its not canon. And don't get me started on Kagome/Sesshomaru fanfiction.


	31. Eat, Drink, and Prey

Tempest walked to the local pub, pocket full of Undertaker's cash. What they talked about would remain between them. Not even Ciel could pry anything out of her, even if he threatened her. Things nowadays were topsy-turvy. He could at least let her keep her personal conversations private.

She pushed open the door to the Hog's Head pub. The patrons turned to look at their visitor and kept staring as she made her way to the bar. The bar tender tossed his dingy rag onto his shoulder. He summed up Tempest's character by her body language. His dark green eyes scanned every part of her, particularily her face. Tempest knew that he was staring. She knew that everyone was staring. She tried to brush it off like it was nothing, only making herself feel more awkward. As an actress, she knew what it felt like to be watched. However, on stage you were supposed to be looked at. In real life it's just plain creepy.

Tempest took a seat at the bar, digging into her pocket for the British pound notes. The bar tender glanced at the money, then at her, and then back the money. He shrugged.

"What do ya want?" He asked with a gruff voice.

"Scotch. A _tall_ glass of scotch."

"Comin' right up." The bar tender disappeared into the back of the bar in search of what she asked for.

The second he left, whispers floated through the air. Tempest could feel eyes boring into her skull. She kept her eyes forward. She never dared to turn in any direction. They were talking about her under their breaths, but she heard them just the same.

"Blimey, she looks just like…"

"I admit there's a bit of resemblance, but there's no way _she _could be his kid."

"I always thought he was gay anyway."

"Come on, you can't see the resemblance. She looks just like him."

"She's an American. How on earth could he possibly get an American pregnant? None of 'em show up 'round here. Especially as of late."

"Shh, Robert. You know we're not supposed to talk about that."

The bar tender returned with a bottle of that amber-color liquor Tempest so desperately wanted. A shot glass was placed in front of her. She eyed him, irritated that she didn't get the tall glass she asked for. Shot glasses might not have sufficed tonight. Grabbing the bottle anyway before the bar tender could get it, Tempest poured herself a drink. She drank it quickly and slammed down the shot glass.

"Feel better?" The tender asked.

"Hardly," Tempest poured another glass for herself. "People won't stop talking about me like I'm not sitting here."

The bar fell silent.

"Why is that?" But the tender could already guess the reason why.

"You tell me."

"You look like the undertaker. Odd, bizarre fellow. Possibly off his rocker that one."

Tempest tossed back another glass. "I should. Apparently, I'm his illegitimate child."

The bar tender stared at her with eyes wide open. If Tempest felt the eyes looking at her before, she could really feel them now. All the eyes of the patrons were targeting her.

"Told you so." Tempest heard one patron say aloud.

Tempest poured and tossed back another shot glass full of scotch. Suddenly, she wasn't in the mood any more for drinking.

"How much?" She flipped through the pound notes.

"18 pounds."

Tempest left a 20 pound note on the counter before making her hasty exit. She needed to get away from those staring eyes. She looked back to find some of the patrons still watching her through the cloudy window. Tempest quickly moved on. The sun was beginning to set rapidly. She drew her jacket closer to her body as a chilly breeze brushed past her. She walked around the village, watching the people who were watching her. She felt like a tourist and at the same time a side show. No one back home remarked how she looked because no one over there knew her father. Here, in that tiny village of Ebonyshire, everyone knew his face. And by default, they knew hers. The familial resemblance to Undertaker apparently was dead on.

She turned into an alley, mistakenly and by the time she figured it out, Tempest couldn't find her way back. One would think that if you're lost in a small village, getting lost would be impossible, yet the actress managed to do just that. She whirled around, slightly hammered, which only added danger to her predicament. Granted she wasn't quite tipsy after only three shots, but Tempest felt the effects of the liquor just the same.

_Maybe I should call for Ciel_? Tempest shook her head immediately. _What am I thinking? I don't need him to help me. I'm a grown woman I can find my way on my own!_

She wandered around until the sky was nearly dark. Tempest stopped in the middle of the street to find her bearings. She couldn't see any particular land marks she might have seen on her way through the village when they first arrived. Swearing to herself, Tempest leaned against the nearest wall. After a few minutes, her back began to ache from pressing against hard, cold bricks behind her. Tempest was a few minutes away from knocking on doors and asking for directions when she heard the sound of feet marching their way towards her.

Tempest looked towards where the sound was coming from. She half expected it to be Sebastian, dispatched by Ciel to find her. Sadly, it wasn't him. It seemed that a dark haired man was approaching her. The look in his eyes made her shiver involuntarily. Tempest pushed herself away from the wall and began walking away. His footsteps drew nearer. Tempest swallowed hard but kept her composure. Men like this didn't take no for an answer. If she could just get to some place where people could see her, then this man wouldn't be so gutsy and try to make a move on her.

Someone up there must have hated her tonight because there wasn't anyone in sight. She wondered where everyone went off to. Tempest looked all over for someone, but the man kept getting closer and closer. She was about to scream for help when his hand roughly grabbed by the arm. The man spun her around and practically threw her against a wall. She shut her eyes on impact, hissing in pain.

He stood nearly an inch a way, his nose barely touching hers. Tempest glared into his brown-reddish eyes.

"You're a pretty one. What's an innocent young dame like you doin' wanderin' about here all by yer lonesome? Don't tell me you don't have chaperons lookin' out for ya?" His eyes darted for her throat and chest.

"I can handle myself just fine," she said coolly. Without looking, she felt around the ground with her feet for some kind of weapon. A bottle, a pipe, a broken piece of wood, anything would do.

"You've got lovely eyes, ya know?" He reached into his pocket for a switch blade knife. Tempest's eyes grew wide in terror. Her heart pounded inside her chest.

"Not so tough now are you, little birdie," he pointed the knife dangerously close to her right eye, "Black hair and blue eyes. Rare combination, I believe. You'll make a fine addition."

"For what?" Tempest's voice panicked.

"To my collection," he licked cracked lips.

No sooner had he spoken those three words, Tempest's foot landed in his most sensitive of areas. Doubling over in pain, his hand slipped away from her arm. Now free from his clutches, Tempest made a run for it. It didn't take long before the friendly, neighborhood psychopath came chasing after her. Out of the blue, rain fell. The sky had been cloudy all day, but not a single drop hit the earth until now. Tempest was certain somebody up there in heaven had a vendetta against her.

_You guys are amazing. When I was feeling down and discouraged, you made me feel better about myself and my writing. As a thank you, I'll post sooner than I expected. You guys are the best!_


	32. First Time

Tempest ran and ran through the rain until she couldn't run anymore. The man trailed far behind her, but he was catching up. She ducked into an alley and hid behind a dumpster. The rain was soaked her head to toe. There one thing she was grateful for was the lack of thunder and lightning. It only rained. If it turned into a storm, she'd be screwed.

Tempest tried her best to pick up the sounds of the man's feet approaching in order to be ready to defend her again. But the sound of the rain drowned everything else out. She squatted close to the ground, ears straining. Seconds turned into minutes and the wait became unbearable. She couldn't hear him getting closer, but she didn't want to risk him seeing her. Tempest doubted that he moved on to another possible victim. Damon act the same way. This psychopath wasn't going to give up easily.

_Maybe I should call Ciel?_ She doubted she could protect herself at this moment. Not unless some sort of weapon were to drop out of the sky.

Tempest hid for as long as she could behind that dumpster. Her knees were aching from the strain. She couldn't relax and sit down. When that madman showed up, she'd have to be ready to get up and fight. Sitting down now would waste precious just for getting up. She shivered in the rain. The wait started to drive her insane.

The sound of _his _footsteps finally came in an ear shot. Slowly, steadily, he approached the alley. The madman was taking his sweet time. Taunting her. Tempest swallowed hard. Her heart was pumping so hard, she could feel the veins in her ears throbbing.

"Come out, come out wherever you are! I won't hurt you, puppet." Tempest stood very still.

His footsteps grew louder and louder. Then he stopped. The air in her lungs got caught in her throat. She couldn't breathe. Then, surprisingly, his footsteps disappeared. He seemed to have walked right past the alley like he hadn't seen her. Did he think she was there and he was playing a cruel trick on her? Or could he really not see her there? Cautiously, Tempest pulled her head around the dumpster. The dark haired man wasn't there, though his footsteps were heading away from the alley. She remained there for another second while she decided to run once he was further away. Or at least that was the idea.

Out of nowhere, a clang and thud echoed in the alleyway. Tempest ducked behind the dumpster again, frightened out of her wits. She looked around her for the source of the noise. Her eyes couldn't find anything out of the ordinary, save this strange object sitting in the middle of the cobblestone street. Feet away from her, what looked like a samurai sword, hilt, sheath, and even a think chain meant for carrying the whole thing lay there in the pouring rain. She heard nothing more than that. The footsteps had completely disappeared.

Tempest crawled over to the sword cautiously. She picked it up with removing it, holding the intricately carved sheath in her hands. The carvings swirled all around the sheath, inlaid with silver. The strong chain was attached to one end of the sheath and the other end to the hilt of the sword itself. Tempest was about to pull the katana out from its sheath when the man returned. She heard his footsteps above the rain; she turned slowly on her heels to face him.

He stood there in the alley, smiling a menacing grin. He blocked her only exit. The man glanced at the sword. His smile turned into a deadly frown.

"Where did you get that?" He snarled.

"Found it." She gripped the handle and the sheath tightly in her hands. Now she stood a fighting chance. Tempest would worry about where the sword came from later.

The man's face turned bright red with anger. Without another word, he came charging at her. Tempest, still afraid even though she had a weapon, stood there like a lump on a log. She didn't know how to fight, let alone how to use a katana. He came at her with his knife raised above his head. Out of instinct, Tempest pulled the sword out of its sheath aiming for his face. The butt of the katana landed squarely on his nose. The sound of crunching bone overshot the sound pounding rain all around them. Being injured again, the man doubled back, holding his bleeding nose. Blood dripped down his face as he looked at her with indescribable fury. Tempest kept her hands firmly on the sword.

"What's the matter? Can't handle it when the girl can fight back?" Tempest knew she had the advantage. With a sword, his knife was no match.

A smart man would run away and find a new target. However, the man didn't like to lose, especially to women. That's why he killed them. This American was really started to piss him off. She was stronger than either one of them suspected. Where ever that sword came from, it seemed to give her more confidence and the ability to fight back. Moments ago the woman didn't seem like she could defend herself, like all the others. Weak, frail, defenseless. That sword had to go.

"I'm going to enjoy ripping you apart, you slut!" He charged for her again.

This time Tempest fully unsheathed the katana. The man aimed his knife at her neck. Tempest aimed for his armpit, a vulnerable place where one of his arteries was located. While he held his knife high again, Tempest saw a wide opening. He didn't see it coming. With one stab, Tempest managed to slice open the artery. Bile rose in her throat. She had never killed a man. Blood dripped down the blade, wetting her hand. He dislodged himself from the sword and stumbled back. His eyes portrayed his fear and shock. The knife dropped from his hand and he went for the bleeding wound. Tempest stood there dumbfounded. She looked at him and then at the blood on her hand.

Suddenly the world went black. He toppled over. A burst of bright light erupted from his wound. Tempest had no idea what was going on. Film strips flew out of him, like a movie in an old-fashioned camera. Tempest could see everything that he had done; from birth to the day he decided to become a serial killer. She saw what he did to various women, gutting them like fish and making souvenirs out of their eyes and locks of hair. If she didn't feel disgusted before, she did now. A cold chill ran up and down her spine. That sword she held in her hands saved her. Had it not fallen out of the sky, she would have been dead too. She would have become one of those poor women.

"You have to cut the cinematic record," Undertaker appeared behind her, his eyes no longer hidden behind his hair.

Tempest turned to him, visibly shaking. "W-what?"

"The cinematic record. Those film strips flying out of him. You have to cut them to end his life." He explained. In his hands, he held a giant silver scythe. At the very top, was a skull.

Tempest readied her sword, though with great difficulty. Every part of her body trembled and shivered. The katana shook violently in her hands. After some minutes, Tempest swiped cleanly through the 'cinematic records.' The severed strips vanished into nothingness. Tempest stood there, shaking like a leaf in the wind. The rain returned. She felt the steady, heavy drops on her face. Her eyes were drawn to the body at her feet. A film washed over his eyes. A puddle of blood lay beneath him. His clothes were stained red. Her brain couldn't wrap itself around this. Moments ago he was alive. He was breathing. Now the man was just a corpse, another resident of the underworld. And she was the cause of it.

Tempest's hands could no longer keep a grip on the sword. It fell with a clang and a clutter. The wooden sheath followed swiftly. Undertaker placed his scythe against the wall beside him. He picked up the sword, sheathing it. He put a firm hand on her trembling shoulders.

"You're officially a grim reaper now." His voice stern and steady.


	33. Numb

Ciel stared at the door, his gaze couldn't be turned away. He sat impatiently in an armchair, waiting. His fingers strummed the arm. His eyebrow twitched every now and then. Sebastian stood not too far away, fixing the master's tea just as he like it. Sebastian had no genuine concern for the young master. He was ordered to be loyal, but that didn't mean he had to honestly feel that way. It was a contract and for the sake of aesthetics, and for that alone, he obeyed. However, he was fascinated with Ciel's growing attention to the actress. As of late, nothing gave Sebastian more pleasure than seeing his master fidget over the well-being of the actress.

The pitter-patter of the rain against the windows filled the room. Margaret reappeared in the parlor, face drawn with concern.

"He's not in his office. That's very strange."

"Is it strange for him to leave his office then?" Sebastian asked as he put the final touches to the steaming cup of earl grey with just a hint of lemon.

"Not really. But he has been really busy lately. He might have gotten another phone call for a job." Margaret answered.

"Is that because of the increase in body count in your cemetery?" Sebastian handed his master his tea.

Ciel barely noticed him, his eye never leaving the door. Without looking, he took the mug. He sipped quietly. Margaret stood in the middle of the parlor, confused.

"How did you know?" She asked.

"I have my ways." He answered. "There's seems to be a particular gloom hanging over us. Not to mention the fact that I happened to look out the window earlier and could not find a single soul out there."

"Y-yes. Ebonyshire was a peaceful little village til those women were gutted like fish. The victims were brutalized. First they were hunted down, raped, cut up, disemboweled, and then have their eyes or their hair ripped off as trophies. The sick bastard has caused nothing but havoc here for the past year and a half. Most of the victims had dark hair or blue eyes. Hope your friend is inside somewhere safe." Margaret wondered who would send a child out here.

Ciel's face turned pale. He shoved the mug towards Sebastian.

"Sebastian, I want you to…" Before he could finish ordering him, the door opened with a creak.

Undertaker stepped in, his oversized coat hung over Tempest's shoulders. Both were dripping wet, leaving puddles in their wake. Undertaker guided her to the sofa. On his back he carried his scythe and a katana in its sheath. One look at the belongings on his back and Margaret threw her hands in the air.

"That's it! I quit. No apprenticeship is worth working for a nut like you!" Margaret marched out of the parlor. The door slammed behind her.

Ciel saw the blood caked on Tempest's hand. Her eyes were glued to her feet, though he could tell she was very frightened. The woman wouldn't stop shaking.

"Tempest, Tempest," he spoke as gently as possible. "Tell me what happened."

Tempest shook her head and refused to speak.

"He nary laid a hand on her. You should be proud. She fought well. The little thing is frightened to death. You should stay here for the night. Can't travel in the rain, anyways." Undertaker vanished, presumably to hide in his office.

Ciel followed him. He entered Undertaker's office, shutting the door completely behind him. Undertaker sat at his desk, once again grinning like the madman that he was.

"You confuse me, little earl. You have your knickers in a twist over a woman you barely know." He snickered.

"My actions are none of your concern." Ciel frowned deeply.

"Really, because if I recall correctly, she's my daughter. Therefore your actions do concern me." He rested his chin on his folded hands.

Ciel glared at him.

"You didn't tell me about the serial killer stalking around this village."

"You never asked." He answered plainly.

"She could've been killed!" Ciel slammed his palms on Undertaker's desk.

Undertakers seemed only slightly surprised. He leaned in closer so his face was barely an inch away. "But she wasn't. And you would've come to her rescue, even if she didn't call for you. Had she the dire need for your help, she would have used you as a last resort. She would grab a spider's thread if she thought it would help her escape."

Ciel had the presence of mind to back away. He remained standing. He kept his gaze to the deranged man.

"She's now among the ranks of grim reapers, Ciel. She can defend herself, though she's rough around the edges. My girl will make a fine death god indeed, he he he."

"You've known her for less than a day and you're already praising her."

"I've known she was my child for six years, in case you've forgotten that I've held onto that letter. You've known her longer than I have, yet you don't really know her, do you, little earl?"

Ciel said nothing in response.

"In a matter of an hour, I know her better than you. What makes her tick. Her fears, her doubts. And what do you keep her around for? Can you answer that question? Can you?" Undertaker taunted Ciel in a way that was both threatening and amusing to himself.

There was a prolonged moment of silence. Somewhere in the funeral home, a grandfather clock chimed.

"By your lack of words, I'd say that you don't know yourself."

"I suppose I can't."


	34. Learning to be Lonely

At 8 P.M, Ciel made his way to the second floor. Undertaker had two spare rooms upstairs. Sebastian would share a room with Ciel and Tempest would have one of her own. As he past her room, he found that the door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, he found her sitting on the edge of the small bed, unmoving. She barely lifted her head up to see him enter. Her head was deeply bowed so that her chin almost touched her chest.

Ciel had been avoiding her since she returned.

"Do you realize what sort of danger you put yourself in tonight?" He started.

Tempest didn't even shake her head. Her lips were drawn lightly closed.

"A serial killer may have gotten you. You didn't even think about what sort things might happen. You could have at least let someone walk you back home. You're lucky that you're a grim reaper or else…"Ciel stopped in the middle of his scolding. Tempest started crying the second he mentioned grim reaper.

"The last thing I need right now is for you to lecture me about safety!" She lifted up her tear-streamed face, glaring through her swelling eyes.

"I apologize."

Tempest's face softened. "You have no idea what's going on in my head. A couple of weeks ago, I thought I was human, just plain, ordinary human. Six years ago, I thought demons only existed in nightmares. And now, my whole perspective on the world has changed. I always knew there was a reason why even _blind_ kids didn't want to hang around me. For sixteen years, it was just me and my mom. Nobody liked me. Now I know why."

Tempest buried her face in her hands. "I'm nothing but a freak of nature," she mumbled.

Ciel reached out to touch her in an attempt to comfort her in some way.

"Please, just go away," Ciel stopped short. He withdrew his hand.

"As you wish." He said. Tempest made no other move. Ciel stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder.

She pitied herself, and had a right to do so. He wondered if she ever had a friend or companion. Was her mother the only person who cared for her? Damon could hardly count. He wanted the girl for his own satisfaction. As for himself, Ciel even questioned his own motives. He was obsessed, but he had no idea why. While he looked over at her, he sensed the bitter pain of loneliness.

Next morning…

Tempest crawled out of the lumpy bed. Rubbing her eyes and stretching, she sighed. She had come to the inevitable conclusion that she was no longer human. Normal, she already knew she wasn't normal. From the shoes she picked out to her hobby of morning strolls through the nearest graveyard, Tempest was never normal. Human, she may have been if not for Ciel. She looked out the window to find the sun just now rising over the village rooftops.

She wanted to get out of the funeral home for even just a while. She wanted nothing more than be by herself to think to herself.

On her way to the door, she found a note on the inside written in black ink.

'Look in the closet,' it said, with a grin skull at the corner of the page.

Curious, Tempest looked for the mentioned closet. She pried open the sliding doors, finding a dusty acoustic guitar. Her eyes welled up. Her mother mentioned a long-lost guitar she once carried with her all the time. Tempest remembered stories of where her mom had taken her guitar. Like a minstrel, her mother lovingly carried her instrument wherever she went, even overseas. From the pictures she had seen, her mom looked like a gothic hippie, with her long dark hair and black summer dresses and the guitar strapped to her back. One day she lost it, forgetting that she set it down some place and couldn't remember it until she was already at the airport on her way back to the states.

C. M was scrawled on the front of the instrument in a flowery signature, just like Tempest saw in old photos. She touched the neck of the guitar, eyes swelling. After all those years she found it. She had a piece of her mother. Tempest bowed her head at the thought of she said of her mom the night before. She felt guilty for ever insulting her. Carefully, Tempest removed the guitar from the resting stand to examine it in the light. She sat on the bed, and wiped away the thin layer of dust that collected on the forgotten instrument. The stings were adjusted accordingly. Just by holding it, Tempest smiled a little.

Stuffing her feet inside her shoes, Tempest ran downstairs, clutching the guitar with one hand. She didn't see anyone. Not her 'father' or even Ciel and Sebastian. Tempest walked out into the morning. The view from the funeral home looked spectacular in the dawn's early light.

The sun climbed high above the hills and over the roof tops. The sun shined like a blaze of glory. The rain left small remnants behind in the night, but with the sun shining so brightly, the day seemed to wipe away all the memory of it. Dew-drenched grass tickled her ankles as Tempest made her way to the graveyard. She strolled through the light fog, plopping down in the grass, and using a tombstone as a wall to support her back. She leaned back, gently strumming the instrument.

She should have felt some kind of hope. This was a new day. But there was something that disturbed her. She felt, she felt incredibly lonely.

Ciel dressed quickly, wanting to leave the village as soon as possible before the body was found. Dawn had already come too quickly. He had spent half the night thinking of how to get rid of it in time to leave the village. Sebastian was probably off somewhere to clean up the mess Tempest had left behind. He left his room in search of him.

Tempest's door was left wide open with her gone. Ciel didn't want to worry. She was out of danger and there wasn't much that she could do to put herself in harm's way at the break of dawn. Still, Ciel went off to look for her, never minding the butler that disappeared on him. Ciel climbed down the steps to the first floor and when he approached the door leading out, his ears picked up a strange noise. The parlor room window was left open, letting in the strange sound that Ciel was hearing. It was a song on a guitar.

He didn't hesitate to open the door. Ciel didn't find the source of the music in front of him. He turned to his right, towards the graveyard. Undertaker was leaning over the wrap-around porch, humming. Ciel silently went up to him. Just as he was about to ask the former death god what he was doing out here, he heard _her _voice. He stood next to Undertaker, who was looking towards the graveyard feet away from his house. Ciel found Tempest sitting among the tombstones, nothing more than a distant blob draping lightly in the fog of the morning.

Without saying a word to Undertaker, Ciel made his way to the steps, climbed down, and walked towards the graveyard. Tempest didn't see either of them since her back way towards them. Ciel approached the cemetery gates quietly as possible. Then, he stopped to listen. Tempest's voice sounded so… lost and abandoned. He had never heard her sound like that before. It shook him to his core

"_Child of the wilderness, born into emptiness, learn to be lonely. Learn to find your way in darkness. Who will be there for you? Comfort and care for you? Learn to be lonely. Learn to be your one companion. Never dream out in the world there are arms to hold you. You've always known your heart was on its own. So laugh in your loneliness, child of the wilderness. Learn to be lonely. Learn how to love life that is lived alone. Learn to be lonely. Life can be lived, life can be loved…alone." _

If his heart could ever beat again, it would stop right here again. Her voice was filled with loneliness nobody could possibly be acquainted with. She couldn't be acting either. This was real. Her emotions poured through her song were as real as they could get. Ciel shuddered at her sad words. He smelled the salt of her tears in the air. He knew what it was like to be alone. He never had a true companion. Not Lizzie, not Sebastian. Nobody. Tempest could sympathize. Whatever she hid in her past, she dealt with it alone.

_I always knew there was a reason why even _blind _kids didn't want to hang around me. For sixteen years, it was just me and my mom. Nobody liked me. Now I know why._

Tempest's words echoed in his brain. She was alone. For a lot longer than he had been in his human life, she knew misery. At this moment, Ciel finally realized what made him so obsessed. He could turn around and give his answer to Undertaker.

"So, earl, why do you keep around?" Undertaker asked as Ciel climbed up to the porch.

He let the question sink in for a second or two before answering.

"Because she knows what it's like to be truly alone."


	35. Assignment

"Miss Bathory, Miss Bathory?" An ill-trained intern shook Beatrix Bathory from her mid-afternoon nap.

Beatrix stirred, stretching her arms and legs while still remaining seated in her office chair. She wasn't scheduled to work in the field today, so Speares had stuck her in that boring, grey cubicle to do nothing but paperwork. It was her lunch break, so technically she couldn't have gotten herself in trouble for that.

"What is it, Newbie?" Beatrix didn't know the intern's actually name. There were too many of them to keep track of, let alone remember all of their names. Besides, they weren't part of her job anyway.

Beatrix stared down at the blonde bimbo in the short skirt. Since 1930, women were officially allowed to join the Grim Reaper Society. And since the 1960's, the skirts were getting shorter and shorter. Which made things all the more difficult for Beatrix because she was a woman herself and not one to wear skirts of any kind. A day didn't go by without being asked if she would wear more 'traditional' female office clothes.

"Mr. Speares would like to see you in his office right away." She replied.

Beatrix sat up in the proper position in her chair before rising completely. "I bet he would."

Beatrix felt like she was going to the headmaster's office all over again. Only worse. She hated her job. More than that, she hated her boss. The man had a stick so far up his butt, it was any wonder how he could sit down. He even tried to make her wear a skirt to work. A skirt! Beatrix Bathory may have been a woman, but no one made her wear a skirt.

She knocked on his office door, once, twice, and a third time before his dull, dry voice answered from the other side. Beatrix entered, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her 1950's vintage suit, custom made for her girlish figure.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Though she didn't mean to add the 'sir' part. William T. Speares could bend over and kiss her arse for all she cared. She didn't want this job anyway.

William looked up from his papers, glancing at her disapprovingly from above his square rimmed glasses. He hadn't changed at all. His hair was greying along the sides, but physically he remained the same, or so Beatrix was told. He shook his head.

"I don't believe _that_ is part of the dress code I suggested." He rose from his comfortable-looking chair. In 1910, he was promoted to manager of the whole lot of them in London. Naturally, managers always got the bigger and better chairs.

"I don't believe that this is 1888, but that's your problem, not mine."

William inhaled sharply through his nose, then exhaled. "And since then, they still haven't come up with a cure for whatever mental disease you may have."

Beatrix shrugged her shoulders. "And you're having a d*** fight with a woman. So who's really the loser, me or you."

She watched one of William's twitch uncontrollably. He couldn't fire her because her dear old, dad was one of the head honchos in the business. Couldn't fire her no matter what she said or did. William learned a while ago to shut his mouth, swallow his pride, and wait for the day when she quit or was transferred to a new district. Although, transferring her to a different country would be even better. Venezuela sounded pretty nice and very, very far.

"You are extremely lucky your father is one of the heads, otherwise you would have been fired years ago."

"Like I wanted this job in the first place," Beatrix retorted.

They stood across from each other, silently glaring. One could cut the tension with a knife.

"You wanted to see me for a reason, _sir_?" Beatrix repeated after a rather long period of silence.

William adjusted his glasses. "There is a case I want you to look at." He went over to his desk and picked up the file he had been looking over. The file was placed in Beatrix's hands with a cold, businessmen demeanor.

Beatrix opened the folder and quickly read the contents.

"Matthew J. Cole died last evening after being stabbed through an artery by a samurai sword? His soul was…judged without the name of the reaper. There's nothing written where the name of the dispatch member should be. How could his soul be judged without a grim reaper? How is that even possible?"

"That's for you to find out, Bathory. You can take one of the other field agents, just not an intern. This isn't something I want a new grim reaper handling," William made his way back to his desk chair.

"Right away, sir." Beatrix gave him a two-fingered salute as she went through the door.

_A katana, no name of the grim reaper, and a high profile case. This psycho wasn't supposed to die for another week. I should know, he was going to be on my list for next week. More paper work, fantastic. At least I can get out of this office._


	36. Sexual Arrassment

"Sir, was it a good idea to leave Miss Tempest in the hotel by herself?" Sebastian asked as he opened the cab door for his master.

They had left the tiny village of Ebonyshire before noon. Sebastian managed to find a taxi service that would drive them from the village to the city for an estimated fee. Tempest collected her new _toy_, the katana, and hesitantly stuffed it in the back of the car. She remained silent for the rest of the day. Upon their arrival, she cloistered herself in her room that connected to Ciel's suite. The last he had seen of her she had her face buried in a pillow.

Ciel climbed out and speedily ran for the hotel's entrance. He just wanted to make sure she hadn't done anything stupid while they were gone. Though there wasn't much she could have done without money or a passport. Sebastian ran behind him as he entered the hotel suite.

"Tempest," Ciel called out, but she never answered.

He was about to call again when he heard a soft moan from the separated bedroom. Without thinking, Ciel burst into the room. He found Tempest lying on her stomach, a complete mess. The water in the bathroom was running, but he'd deal with that later. Throwing his hat aside, he went to bedside. Her clothes were ruffled, her shirt pulled up over her stomach. The blue of her eyes was dimmed with the alcohol he could smell on her breath. As for her hair, it appeared to be nothing more than an unmanageable mess of black threads. Several locks were stock together with some of sticky substance, God only knew what.

"Have you been drinking?" Ciel asked, though it was as plain as the nose on his face that she had. She reeked of alcohol. But where on earth did she get, unless Undertaker had given her some?

She peered open her blurry eyes. "J-just, just a little bit." She murmured.

"Young master!" Sebastian yelled through the door.

"What is it?" Ciel replied in an irritated tone.

He heard a woman yelp, then a thud and crash.

"Get your hands off me, you arse-hole! I'm a lady!" The same woman cried.

"Hardly." Sebastian returned.

The next thing Ciel knew Sebastian came strolling in with a woman tossed over one of his shoulders like a potato sack. Her denim encased legs kicked wildly with unadulterated fury. Sebastian jumped her roughly on the floor. The woman fixed her hair. They looked at each for a second, then pointed to one another.

"You?" They spoke in surprise.

The woman got to her feet, brushing off her pants.

"Well, if it's you doing the man-handling, I suppose I shouldn't mind," she added with a wink.

"Do you know this person, Sebastian?" Ciel threw himself in the middle of this strange reunion.

"She was on the train heading towards Ebonyshire. She's one of _them."_ Sebastian answered dutifully.

Ciel turned to the woman in question. She dressed in tight black denim skinny jeans and dark crimson halter top cut down to Venezuela* that snugly fit around her toned waist line. Her strange, Bride of Frankenstein hair was pulled into a high pony-tail, with short curled bangs shielding her forehead and long skinny locks framing her face. Her red heels clicked as she strutted her way to the bathroom, shutting off the sink. On her ears, she wore dangling silver cross bones. Ciel couldn't help but notice the tattoo on her right arm of a portrait of Marilyn Monroe, should she be raised from the dead a rotting zombie.

"A grim reaper?"

"To be fair, I never wanted the job to begin with." She grabbed the desk chair and swung her legs around it she sat in it backwards. Beatrix rested her arms on the top of the chair. "And just so you know, I couldn't care less if you two were demons. Old William's got a stick so far up his arse, he doesn't even know it's there."

"You knew that I was a demon?" Sebastian paid no attention to Ciel's irritated face. The butler had been holding something back from him.

Beatrix winked at him again. "Course, I did, sweetie. I'm not the kind of gal who judges people. More importantly, William's new secretary already slept with someone of your kind. Everyone in the office knows it." She got off the chair and made her way over to him.

As if Ciel and a drunk Tempest were no longer in the room, Beatrix grabbed Sebastian's tie, pulling him close to her face.

"Trust me, I knew. That's what I like about you. You're not like the others. If only we could find a lonely place, the things I would do to…"

"Would you please stop sexually harassing my butler and tell me what the hell happened tonight!" Ciel figuratively and literally put his foot down.

Sighing, Beatrix released Sebastian's tie.

"In my defense, she would have walked out of the bar by herself if I hadn't popped in when I had." Beatrix raised her hands defensively.

Tempest groaned louder. She groped for a pillow and plopped the thing over her ear.

"Perhaps we should have this conversation elsewhere. She seems to need some quiet rest," Sebastian motioned towards the door.

*_This is just a figure of speech I heard from a clip from _The Addam's Family Musical._ It's not a typo. It just means that her shirt was cut really low._


	37. We have an Accord

"_Miss Bathory, where are you going?" George asked, though I always called him 'Toothpicks.' _

"_I need a drink. Besides London's a big city and it's night. We can hold of the search until tomorrow morning." I headed for the bar across the street. _

_George and the other grim reaper yelled something to me as I cross the street, but I couldn't hear them over the sound of the traffic. I put my cell phone on vibrate and grabbed my wallet from my back pocket. I went to the bar and paid for a beer, though it was overpriced if you ask me. _

"Please, focus." Ciel pouted.

Beatrix rolled her eyes. "Anyways…

_Before he went to fetch me a beer, he gave someone a bourbon chaser down at the other end of the bar. I turn, hoping it be some good-looking fellow, when I saw your friend slumped over the counter, surrounded by shot glasses. Normally, I wouldn't bother a woman she's drinking, but something bothered me. _

_I go up to her as she sipping her chaser. I asked her why she looked so glum. She mumbled something under her breath. She goes on to tell me this sappy story about her mum sleeping with an undertaker, giving birth to her in New York, and then she just now found out who her father was. At first I thought I stepped onto a horrible set of a T.V drama, but no one makes up that kind of stuff. I watch her down the chaser and she falls straight forward onto the counter. _

_As she fell unconscious, I counted at least 5 shot glasses and another chaser besides the one she just finished. This chick was wasted. And they say Americans can't hold their alcohol. _

_Taking pity on her, I pay for her bill, and take her to my car. I find a business card in her jacket to this hotel and the room number on the back. _

"And that's how I got here. I helped her out of the goodness of my heart. She was smart to get the room number down and the hotel. I wouldn't have remembered to do that." Beatrix finished.

Ciel sat in his chair and for the longest time remained silent. He looked at the grim reaper, thinking that she couldn't be very professional dress like _that._

"I do have one question, though." Beatrix looked skeptical.

"And what is that?" Ciel asked.

"You do realize that she looks like Undertaker and that my colleagues are in search for her, right now. My boss sent us over to Ebonyshire this morning to find out why that serial killer's soul was reaped without a reaper's name listed where it should be. The loon told us everything."

"He told you everything?" Ciel was more than surprised at Undertaker's lack of discretion. But then again this was Undertaker they were talking about. He'd say anything for a 'good laugh.'

"Sang like a canary." Beatrix folded her arms across her chest, pushing her breasts together in an inappropriate manner. "Which brings me to something else I've been meaning to bring up."

Ciel leaned forward. "That would be?"

Beatrix mirrored his body language. "I want out."

"I beg your pardon."

Beatrix's face turned deadly serious. "I want out of the grim reaping business. It's boring. It's depressing and I work with weirdoes and William T. Speares, a sexist, fun-sucking, penguin. You let me come with you, I'll get you three out of the country without anyone notices."

Ciel chuckled, shaking his head and scoffing. "Why should I bring you along?"

"Because your friend is a grim reaper and a woman. Worse yet, she's obviously an _emotionally traumatized _woman and a _new _grim reaper. So, unless either of you two has experience dealing with both, I believe I'm the only one who might be willing to help you. Emotional problems are one thing, but combined with her new grim reaper powers, she'll cause more problems than you care to deal with. New powers and emotional trauma never end well for those involved."

Beatrix reached into her back pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes, flattened by sitting on them for hours on end. She opened the lid, holding it there for him to see.

"Mind if I smoke?"

Ciel shook his head.

Beatrix placed a cigarette between her lips, then lit it up with a lighter she pulled out from her pocket.

"In other words," she inhaled and blew out a thick stream of smoke, "you need me."

"Is that so?" One of Ciel's brows arched. He didn't like it when someone assumed he needed help with anything.

"You're in over your head and you know it, Phantomhive. You've got the British dispatch that's going to come knocking any minute now. You've got a new reaper on your hands and you don't know how to train her to use her powers properly. She is emotionally traumatized, exhausted, and drunk. Even if you could get to the airport and get tickets for New York at this hour, you're not getting past security with her aled up like _that._ She needs someone who can teach her, you need to get out of the country, and I want to quit my job. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure this one out." Beatrix finished and simply sat and smoked her cigarette as Ciel thought her offer over.

He motioned for Sebastian move closer to him.

"What do you think? Can we trust her?" Ciel whispered.

"She seems sincere about her animosity towards her job. And she makes very valid points. Miss Tempest is need of someone who can teach her how to deal with whatever powers a grim reaper has. We have no such qualifications for training her and having a woman around may help Miss Tempest, shall we say, _loosen up a bit?_"

Ciel sighed. "Then we have no choice."

"Beatrix, correct," he turned to the grim reaper, who looked up, "I believe we have an accord."


	38. The Getaway Vehicle

"Good, she's unconscious. It'll be that much easier to move her around," Beatrix felt Tempest's vital signs.

She scooped up the girl in her arms only to hand her off to Sebastian. "Don't jostle her around anymore than necessary or else you'll be cleaning vomit from your nice suit for the next week and a half."

"How would you know how long it takes?" Sebastian asked.

Beatrix turned to him with a coy smile. "I've had my fair shares of nights finding the prize at the end of a bourbon chaser: vomiting, aching head, the urge to laugh at your own jokes, and not knowing where you parked even though you know you shouldn't be driving in your father's antique car. But that's a story for another time."

Ciel grabbed Tempest's sword. Beatrix stopped to look at it.

"I thought your kind didn't need weapons." She eyed the sword with scrutiny.

"This isn't mine. It's hers." He motioned to the unconscious woman in Sebastian's arms.

Beatrix shrugged and headed out of the suite. The demons followed behind her swiftly, shutting the door behind them as quietly as possible. They quickly made their way to the elevator and looking around the corridor to make sure no one had seen them. When the coast seemed clear, they entered. Beatrix spotted the elevator camera first and pulled everyone out before it could get a good look at them.

"We can't be spotted by cameras. I should have noticed that earlier. We'll have to take the employees staircase." She ran down the hall.

"The employee's staircase?" Ciel grumbled loudly.

Beatrix whipped her head around, her bright green-yellow eyes glaring. She put her hands on her hips and pushed up her glasses with her left middle finger.

"Pardon me, your highness but we can't be caught by people or by security cameras. We can either take the employee staircase or risk getting caught. Which would you rather have?" She answered his remark with a snarky attitude.

Ciel rolled his eyes knowing that she was right. "Lead the way."

Beatrix ran to the staircase clearly marked with a sign that said 'Employees Only.' She poked her head through, looking up and down for anyone. Seeing and hearing nothing, Beatrix silently motioned for the two of them to follow. They must have climbed three flights down, skipping two steps at one point. The sound of their shoes echoing heavily against the poorly insulated walls. Beatrix checked the door on the lobby floor, then motioned for them to follow her again.

Beatrix looked back behind her once every few seconds as she led them outside, towards the small parking garage behind the hotel. Ciel and Sebastian couldn't have guessed what kind of car she drove until they came face to face with it.

She dug around her pockets for the keys while she stood there beneath the lamplight. Cherry-red paint glistened even the dim lighting. Black hot rod flames curved around each of the firm, clean wheels. Beatrix obviously took care of her car. Nary was a scratch or dent seen from the chrome hood ornament to the shiny bummer. The vanity plate read 'To Die For' next to the 'Breaks for zombies' and 'Hell hath no fury like a scorned woman behind the wheel' bumper stickers. The car looked positively dangerous standing feet away from it. Sharp rims and long body gave the unavoidable impression of a car not to be driven by anyone except an expert.

"That's your car?" Ciel pointed to the machine. "Can you even drive this thing? It looks positively dangerous."

Beatrix gasped, honestly looking like she had been insulted. "Don't talk about Roxy like that. She may look mean and nasty but treat her just right she purrs like a kitten. This is a 1959 Cadillac. With a few modifications, of course. Nearly 400 horse power. Sharp rims for protection, never know when you need to ram someone off the road. Extra trunk space. Heating and air conditioning. CD player, radio, and GPS. Not to mention enhanced with the latest grim reaper technology."

"What kind of technology?" Ciel stepped closer to the car.

"Let's just say that those hot rod flames aren't there just for decoration." She winked at him before opening the driver's side door, which in England was incorrect. The features she mentioned said nothing about the steering wheel being on the right hand side of the car. From the inside of her car, she unlocked the passenger doors, but popped open the trunk with the press of a button.

Beatrix went to the trunk of the car to get something out while Sebastian secured Tempest in the back seat. Ciel was about to climb into the driver's passenger seat when she pushed the sharpened blade of a shovel against his throat.

"Your reaping tool." He stared at it.

"Got a problem with that?" Beatrix felt Sebastian wrench it out of her hands.

"I have a problem with you threatening the young master. You should be careful when waving around a blade like this." He touched the base of her throat in the same manner she did to Ciel.

Completely unfazed by his threat, Beatrix snatched the shovel from him. She slung it over one shoulder and put her free hand on her hip.

"Your _young master _should sitting in the back with his girlfriend. I need somebody sober and whose legs are long enough to actually _reach _the pedals in case we run into something nasty." She dumped her shovel onto the floor of the passenger seat.

"You're colleagues don't know where you are and they won't figure it out by the time you open a portal or whatever it is you grim reapers do to transport to places you want to go. What could we possibly run in to?" Said Ciel as he reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat, still gripping the katana and sheath in his gloved hand.

As if on cue, a curved blade collided with the earth below. The blade connected to a ridiculously long pole, which was attached to a pair of hands. They followed the pole to the hands and they didn't need to guess to who owned the hands.

William T. Speares adjusted his glasses. He glared at Sebastian, the vein in his forehead clearly throbbing even though he was standing high above them on a lamp post. His burning glare turned to Beatrix, who didn't bother to so much as flinch at the sight of him.

"Out of all the foul things you've done, Bathory, this is your most disgusting. Your father won't stand for this…"

Beatrix shot up her middle finger. "You know Speares, there's been something I've been meanin' tell you for the longest time."

William stood unfazed by her blatant display of disrespect for her superiors.

"And what's that?" His tone was cold and venomous, yet unfazed. He couldn't care less what the traitor wanted to tell him. She was going to be punished for collaborating with demons very soon and she'd finally be fired and out of his hair for good.

"You can stick that gloried hedge clipper straight up your arse. Preferably the sharp end, you pompous, arrogant, pig-headed, sexist, son of a pencil-pushing slut!" Beatrix grinned wildly from ear to ear.

She turned to Sebastian, "You have no idea how long I waited to say that."


	39. Return of the Red Reaper

Ciel stepped out of the vehicle after making sure Tempest was secured safely in a seat belt. William inhaled sharply at the sight of him.

"Ciel Phantomhive. I thought you left Great Britain a long time ago." He pulled at his reaping tool until it returned to its normal length.

"I had some business to attend to." Ciel replied coolly.

William jumped down to the ground below, landing with all the grace of a cat on his feet. His glare mainly focused on Ciel, but every now and then his attention was turned the ex-grim reaper before him.

"I told my superiors to have you eliminated, but they never listen to me. Now we have to deal with you three and make me clock out later than usual. I don't care for reunions so let us make this fight quick." He adjusted his glasses for the umpteenth time.

"We?" Sebastian spoke almost inaudibly.

All three of them looked around the surrounding area. Scanning over every shadow and blind spot for the allies William had with him. Forming a semi-circle, they looked around. Beatrix readied her hands to swing or slice her shovel any which way the attacker or attackers might be coming from. The silence around them sent chills up their arms. It was far too quiet. When the silence began to mess their minds, a long shadow appeared from the rooftops, its feminine form dancing in front of the waxing moon for only a split second then seen no more until it fell to the ground.

Sebastian saw a flash of red and started to fear for the worse. But when the figure came into closer view, he nearly sighed with relief. A woman with flaming red hair and a red coat stalked towards them, her long heels clicking as she walked over the concrete. However, his relief quickly turned into anguish. His face went white. The woman pulled out a chainsaw of all things from behind her back. She stretched her lips into a full smile, baring all of her shark-like teeth.

"Dear god, what on earth are you?" Sebastian couldn't stop himself. What had Sutcliff done to himself?

"You will be surprised at what modern science can do nowadays," Beatrix sneered, though she looked like she was about to throw up.

"Is that really…" Sebastian felt bile rise up in his throat. If Grell Sutcliff made him nauseous before, he felt utterly disgusted and sick just looking at his 'new' body.

"Grell Sutcliff, yes, unfortunately it is."

Grell winked and shouldered the chainsaw. "What's the matter, Sebastian darling? Don't like the _new_ me_?_"

"I didn't enjoy the idea of you as a man and I certainly don't enjoy you as a woman either." He joined Beatrix with a look of disgust.

"Pity." Grell straightened the chainsaw and gave the cord a might tug. "It will be a shame to rip you apart then."

"But you and I have a score to settle, you arrogant slut." Beatrix stepped between Sebastian and Grell, wielding her shovel like a sword.

"Just who are you calling a slut, you tactless strumpet?" Grell shouted before she charged for Beatrix.

The chainsaw came flying down with all of Sutcliff's hatred and anger behind it. Beatrix successfully blocked it with her shovel. Each rotating saw bit sent sparks everywhere as they repeatedly met the solid handle of Beatrix's shovel. Their feet shifted as they each tried to push the other in submission. Each equally strong, this pairing quickly became simply a battle of wills. Sooner or later one of them would weaken.

"You think _I'm _tactless? You manage to take all the good men from the rest of us. Though only God knows how. At least I'm biologically a woman." Beatrix gritted through her teeth.

"At least I can act like one. You're such a weirdo, you know that. It's a wonder you can find a date anyways. Especially after I started that rumor that you're a lesbian around the office," Sutcliff chuckled.

"YOU DID THAT!" Beatrix broke away from Grell and then swung madly at the other grim reaper.

While the women fought and called out nasty names to each other, even if Grell was genetically a man, William dodged them, avoiding getting cut by either of their reaping tools, heading straight for Ciel. Using his hedge clipper like a spear, he ran at Ciel. Ciel saw the attack coming. He didn't even bother telling Sebastian to move him or to stop William. No, Ciel wanted to fight on his own for once. The blade came dangerously close to his face. He skidded to the right without so much as a scratch. He had very narrowly missed receiving a rather nasty cut on his face. William was not impressed by Ciel's enhanced speed or agility.

"What did you come to England for? I won't ask you again." William repeated sternly.

"Reasons." Ciel mocked.

"Why you little…" William meant for the hedge clipper to spear (pun not intended) through Ciel, hopefully putting an end to this mess. But his notorious butler had other ideas.

Sebastian grabbed hold of the clipper in his white-gloved hands and kept an unbreakable grip. He grinned broadly at his old nemesis. William merely grimaced in return.

"Long no see, correct Mr. Speares? You'll have to excuse our rudeness, but we are on rather tight schedule." He ripped the tool out of William's hands. Throwing it up and catching it so that the sharp end pointed towards its former master, Sebastian held William at a figurative gun point.

The parking lot echoed with the sound of metal thudding against something hard. Six eyes turned towards a Grell slumped on the ground and Beatrix wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. With a swift kick, she sent the still spinning chainsaw out of sight and out of reach in case Grell should ever wake up. Beatrix proudly strutted victoriously over to them, purposely stepping on Grell's back with an extra skip in her step. When she arrived at arm's length behind William, she held the slightly dulled blade to his neck.

"And what should we do 'bout him?" She nodded towards her former boss.

"I don't know yet," Ciel went to the still open car door. "First, I want to see if Tempest is still uncon…scious." His words stopped for half of second when he realized that no one was in the back seat. His cool exterior melted instantly.

"Young master, what is it?" Sebastian went to see what had caused Ciel distress.

They each stared into the empty back seat. Her seat belt had been unbuckled and her sword was missing. Evidence pointed out that she had left the car when they all were perfectly distracted. However, the clues didn't mean that she could have done it. When Ciel strapped her in, Tempest was unconscious. Nothing proved otherwise. She reeked of liquor. Her slurred speech and her eyes were dead giveaways to her alcohol-induced state.

"Can actresses fake drunkenness?" It seemed like a rather odd question.

"What are you saying, sir?" Sebastian had no idea where Ciel was going with this. He had seen Tempest for himself. She was very drunk.

"She couldn't have woken up and stumbled out of the car without anyone noticing, especially if she was drunk. Impossible. She probably couldn't get out of the seat belt. You there," he pointed to Beatrix. "Do you for sure how much she had to drink?"

Beatrix thought for a moment. "There were a couple of seats next to her that were empty. It's possible that she had just one bourbon chaser. That could account for some of the symptoms."

"So in other words she's mostly sober and she managed to escape. Dammit." He kicked one of the tires in frustration.

"Watch it, you! That's _my_ car you're kicking around!" Beatrix shouted.

"Pardon me for saying this sir," Sebastian spoke only to Ciel, "But I have to compliment on Miss Tempest's acting skills. She easily had us all fooled. She's, well, she's one hell of an actress."


	40. The Ghosts of Tower Hill

For the third time that night, Tempest leaned into a trash receptacle and heaved whatever contents still remaining in her stomach. When she was finished, she wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. She staggered through the streets. If she could fool two demons and a grim reaper into thinking that she was blind stinking drunk, it was merely child's play to pretend to be sober for humans. She had but one bourbon chaser, though it was enough to make her just a little tipsy. That Beatrix should have realized that she wasn't completely drunk. Had Tempest drank all of those shot glasses, she really would be passed out. She also wouldn't have been able to tell her anything about what she had been through. Tempest skillfully avoided the fact that she was with Ciel and Sebastian, a pair of demons and that her father was Undertaker. Under the influence of alcohol, she may have had the slip of the tongue and told Beatrix everything. The fact that she hadn't was proof enough that Tempest had control over her mouth and could think clearly.

It was close to midnight. A lot of people were already in the pubs and other entertainment hot spots. They had no time to see Tempest walk around in a slight daze with a katana in her hands. She pulled her coat just a little closer to her body as another breeze of London air brushed past her. As a New Yorker, cold weather was nothing. Still, Tempest folded her arms to keep them warm. Her eyes scanned for a bus stop with some kind of map or a phone booth. Tempest had an idea and hoped against hope it would work out in the end. All she had to do was find the American embassy, dump the sword somewhere without anyone noticing, and tell the authorities that she had been kidnapped, which was true, by black market traders in a human trafficking ring. Tear up her clothes, add a little dirt, and play the part well enough to convince them and she'd get home without any further hindrance. That is if she could find the place at all.

The only thing Tempest managed to accomplish by one in the morning were sore knees, aching feet, and get herself incredibly lost. She kept the katana tightly in her hands for defensive purposes only. Once the embassy was in sight, she would throw it into the nearest dumpster or toss it under a pile of garbage bags. Had there been anyone trustworthy, Tempest would gladly go up to someone and ask for directions. Though with the sword, she directed foot traffic _away_ from her. Not exactly what she had in mind. The thought occurred to her only once that if she got rid of it sooner rather than later, she could get help much faster. However, she continued to think on over this option. Should she throw the sword away now, she would be defenseless and she certainly wasn't going to count on Ciel or Sebastian to come and get her. The whole point of faking a drunken stupor was to get away from those two.

Half an hour later, Tempest stood across the street from the infamous Tower Hill, the spot where many met their fate with the ax-man. Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, Lady Jane Grey, and many others were beheaded beneath the Tower of London for treason, heresy, witchcraft and a plethora of other crimes. A freezing chill ran up her spine as she looked across the empty street from Tower Hill. The very hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Tempest didn't believe in ghosts, which was ironic because she believed in demons. She had seen several places supposedly haunted by ghosts, but she had only heard stories about the Tower of London. A torture chamber kept medieval and gruesome devices designed to cause as much suffering as possible. A prisoner which held many poor souls, many of which did not deserve the fate they were dealt with. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the street. She figured that someone somewhere on the grounds had to be on guard. They could help her get to the American embassy.

Tempest quietly tip-toed across the grounds, climbing over the thick black chains fencing off the lawn. She heard not a sound except for her feet rustling through the grass. The Tower of London seemed deserted. Not even a single guard looked to be on duty. As much as she would have loved to take an evening tour of the place, she needed to get away from there. No one should look around the Tower of London at night, let alone any place that bore the black stain of cruelty, inhumanity, and death like this place was crowned with.

She held her breath as she passed the famed plaque on the spot where Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, and Jane Grey were beheaded. Tempest shivered again and tore her eyes away. A quick scan around the grounds proved fruitless. Nobody was there, no one she could turn to. The streets were empty. People were either sleeping or avoiding this area entirely, which was surprising at all.

Tempest's felt her knees wobbling and before she could reach a bench, she fell to the floor in the archway entrance to the prison. The night only grew colder and darker. She was losing hope by the second. One of them would surely realize that she was acting. By now, they probably would have. Ciel and his butler were most likely on their way in finding her. It would be better to up little resistance. Tempest was too weak. Her stomach was empty and everything from her toes to her neck ached.

"_Oh, to my dearest, ruler and lord, merciful husband, noblest of kings. Your heart of gold has long since tarnished. In my chamber, what will the morning bring? Was it my heart that doth betray me because I loved more than one man? Truth within the writings of a letter signed and sealed poor Catherine Howard's fat…" _Tempest heard a woman's voice softly singing in the distance. Her brain told her to stay to put and wait for help to arrive. However, in desperation, Tempest was more than willing to put aside all her pain and discomfort if it meant finding someone to help her escape England and get back home.

She followed the woman's voice through the Tower of London until she came to big empty chamber. The blood in her veins froze. The katana fell from her shaking hand.

A whole company of dead spirits hovered above the ground, some with heads. Some carried their severed members in their arms like toy-sized dogs. Their silvery forms enhanced their wretched forms. Many of them wore rich clothing. Tempest guessed that it was because even nobles had their fall from grace with various kings. The singing stopped when one of the ghosts pointed his bony finger towards her.

"Thou art most certainly not dead. Neither art thou amongst the living." He croaked.

The ghost of Catherine Howard swam through the mass of silvery bodies, placing her head between her hands. Tempests didn't need to see a mirror to know that her face went white as a new sheet. Her legs wouldn't move even though her brain was currently screaming at her to run. Catherine glided over the stone flooring, her cold eyes glued to the trembling girl. The former queen's eyes darted to the sword then to Tempest. She held her severed head closer to the woman's face. Bile rose in Tempest's throat when she saw the frayed skin and exposed bone and muscle of Catherine's head.

"Who art thou?" Catherine asked with all the dignity she had been stripped of.

"T-Tempest S-S-Stayne, your majesty," she gave a small curtsy.

"The scarfs and bannerettes about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden*"

"Uh?" Tempest was a little caught up in the moment and her Shakespeare was rusty.

"So, my good window of lattice," she glided around Tempest in a circular motion as if examining the woman, "thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee**. Thine strange sword is a merely a twig and thy bearing reveals a cowardly nature. Those strange garments thou dawnest are unsuitable for a woman."

"That is entirely uncalled for," Tempest regained some courage. Ghosts couldn't actually hurt people. She picked up her sword again, the trembling in her fingers dying down.

Catherine chuckled and put her head back on her neck. "Get thee to a nunnery***, peasant. Thy place is not here. Didst God become so idle that He senteth thee to earth to harvest souls? Or was it fiends from the lower regions who cursed the land of the living with thy presence?"

"Come, come, now dearest Catherine," Anne Boleyn glided next to her successor. "It out-Herod's Herod**** to speak so harshly to the green sprout. She canst not help to have no more valor in her than in a wild duck*****."

_I thought I introduce some William Shakespeare into the mix because the Renaissance was awesome and so is the author and Tempest is already in London. So I thought why not add some ghosts picking on her? Anyway, here's the plays and what they mean in modern English in case you don't read Shakespeare like I do and have no idea what any of it means. _

_*_The scarfs and bannerettes about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. (All's Well that Ends Well, 2.3.202-204) _Catherine Howard means to say that Tempest may carry around a reaping tool and her father's blood may seem to give Tempest an advantage, but really she's weak. _

_**_So, my good window of lattice…thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. (All's Well that Ends Well, 2.3.213-214) _She's basically saying that it is very easy to see through to Tempest's personality, like a window. _

_***_Get thee to a nunnery. (Hamlet, 3.1.121) _This is a saying that has more than one meaning. Here, it means that Tempest should find something else to do with her life. Catherine assumes Tempest is a grim reaper by profession and not by blood. _

****It out-Herod's Hero (Hamlet, 3.2.14) _This one means that it's worse than something that's already bad. Like doing something worse than Adolf Hitler or some other mass murdering psychopath. _

*****….have no more valor in her than a wild duck. (Henry IV, Part One, 2.2.95-96) _Somebody is really cowardly. Wild ducks are easily frightened, as are many small animals but William went with ducks here. _


	41. William Shakespeare would be Proud

_I knew I should have avoided this place. The only reason why I even bothered was because there any residential areas. Not to mention I got lost and I smell like liquor. Nobody would bother to help in my state. _

"Forget this. The last thing I need is to be insulted by a bunch of dead guys," Tempest turned on her heels, "Enjoy your miserable after life, bunch of lousy old goats."

Catherine Howard flew right through her solid form like they always seemed to do in movies. Her firm brow cocked. Her face haughty and demeaning with her nose scrunched up like she had tasted something sour.

"You assume a virtue you do not have. Thou canst stand there on thy own feet, firm like a lion, but dost thou really have courage? A sword in a coward's hand is useful as water to man that has already perished in the wastelands. Or art thou made of stronger stuff than I presume?" Catherine added with a laugh.

Tempest inhaled sharply. _Fight fire with fire, _she thought.

"Quintessence of dust, stony image, cold and dumb, what thinkst thou of thy body rotting beneath the earth, food for worms and bones become fodder for the grass? Art thou not proud of thy accomplishments in life that you must have your ghostly goons surround thee as if thou wert the queen of the dead?"

Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't find anything else to say. So, Tempest continued with her rant.

"Joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue, sly frantic wretch, ravenous tiger, and _expendable_ wench. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frightened when a madman stares?* I have seen better faces in my time than stands on any shoulder that I see before me at this instant.** You are a whitely wanton with a velvet brow with two pitch-balls stuck in your face for eyes.*** Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither!****"

"'Ello puppet." A cold chill ran up her spine.

* * *

After almost two hours of searching, Ciel finally caught the scent of Tempest. She wandered past all of the residential housing and even the hotels. Her heart was pounding inside her chest. She had been frightened by something she had seen or she ran into some unsavory company.

He owned a vast knowledge of London, every nook and cranny. There were few places she could turn to without him following right behind. Sebastian held William at bay and Beatrix stayed behind to keep Grell from stopping Ciel. Those two knew about Tempest's existence. Whatever, they had planned to do with her, whether report to their superiors or contact the grim reaper society in the United States; he couldn't allow that to happen. Once they got their hands on her, she would end up reaping souls for the rest of her life. Although he had his own selfish reasons, Ciel didn't want that to happen to her. The only thing on his mind right now was finding her and getting out of England. Though how Beatrix planned to do that, admittedly he had no idea.

Shouting came from a distance, or at least that was what he heard with his supernatural sense of hearing. Then he felt a new presence. One of his own kind and it was heading for the Tower of London. Ciel sprinted over there, Tempest's scent growing stronger. He skipped over the cool grass. Charging right into the prison, Ciel could smell death all around him. He could feel all of the tormented souls locked away in here for all eternity. She was definitely here. He could smell her and feel her. But there was another. The dark aura of a demon just entered.

Ciel turned unto a corridor to see the shadow of a masculine figure in the lamp light. There wasn't anything around the corner. He swore that he had seen someone or something slink past that same corner, however there was no trace. Not even a shadow. Ciel still could feel Tempest within the ancient prison. She had to be somewhere around here.

"Lookin' for somethin' gov'ner?" A deep cockney voice spoke.

Ciel whipped around to see a tall, brawny creature with his arms tightly wrapped around Tempest's frame. She struggled, but it was no use. She was weak and lacked any sort of training. The alcohol in her system didn't help matters either. Her hands were unarmed, the sword being tossed like garbage across the floor. Ciel gingerly picked the katana up for her, though now would be a really good time to rescue her first.

"I highly recommend you get your hands off of her." Ciel stated calmly. The greasy looking demon didn't stand a chance against him. Another weak demon who thought they could get the better of him because he looked small and child-like.

"And what if I don't? She smells rather nice. Too bad I can't eat her soul. I may just have to settle for just enjoyin' her body," his large, gnarly hand ran over breasts.

Tempest's face burned bright red and began struggling anew. Tears bubbled and streamed down her face. The demon grabbed her chin and pulled her face closer to his. His yellow eyes skimmed over her face, then down her body. She shivered as he stared at her like a piece of meat. Her gaze turned to Ciel, who stood still as a statue. Was he seriously going to let this monster molest her?

"C-Ciel, please," Tempest pleaded with a shaking voice. "I admit it already! I can't do it by myself, okay? Just help me out here? Please."

Ciel remained silent, though his gaze turned to the other demon.

"Please, Ciel, for the love of God, help me!" Tempest screamed at the top of her lungs. Her tears ran heavier down her face as she desperately tried to get Ciel's assistance.

"I never said I wasn't going to help you," he stepped forward slowly. "I just needed a moment to think about how to do it. Do you trust me?"

"Just what are you planning, little man? This little crumpet's mine now. Go to the nearest playground and your find own." The nameless demon hugged Tempest closer, his chin resting on top of her shoulder.

* * *

*Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frightened when a madman stares? (Julius Caesar, 4.3.40)

**I have seen better faces in my time than stands on any shoulder that I see before me at this instance. (King Lear, 2.2.94-98)

***You are a whitely wanton with a velvet brow with two pitch-balls stuck in your head for eyes. (Love's Labour's Lost 3.1.193-194)

****Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither! (Henry VI, Part 3, 5.6.67)


	42. Admittance

"Tempest, do you trust me?" Ciel paid no attention to the demon.

She nodded her head, "Yes, yes already! Just help me out!"

"Very well," he took another step forward, "I need you to close your eyes, and no matter what you hear, don't open them again until I say it is safe."

Unhesitatingly and without question, Tempest slammed shut her eyes. What happened next frightened her the most. Though she couldn't see it, her breath felt cold as ice as she breathed out. The temperature dropped dramatically.

"What do you think you're doing, you snot-nosed brat? I said get lost!" The other demon's hold tightened even more. Tempest thought she was going to suffocate with his grip so tight around her lungs.

Then silence.

Tempest held her breath. She couldn't hear anything, she couldn't see anything. What was going on? What was Ciel planning to do?

"W-what?" The demon stammered. His grip grew weak. "H-how?"

"I warned you, didn't I? It seems that you are of lesser intelligence. Now I have to show you what it means to underestimate me." Ciel's voice turned into something dark and sinister. Tempest almost didn't recognize it.

The other demon screamed near her ear, its piercing howl made her eardrums to throb. Tempest felt herself drop to the ground because her knees finally gave way and there was nothing holding her up. It seemed as though the demon had been turned to dust. She smelled a hint of ash and charcoal clinging in the air. But she didn't open her eyes. Whatever Ciel did to him, she _really _didn't want to know about it.

"You can open your eyes now. It's alright."

Tempest slowly opened one lid, then the other when it seemed that things were normal again. There was no trace of the other demon, just the smell of burning hair and ash. The ghosts were gone too. Probably off to scare another trespasser.

"I'm so useless. I could barely defend myself against insults from a bunch of dead guys." She whispered.

"This is why I want to help you." Ciel appeared in front of her. He only seemed a bit taller because she was on her knees.

She glared at him and then turned away angry. "But you said that I was just a toy until you got bored."

"I know what I said and for reasons I can't explain, because they seem utterly illogical, I don't want you think that way about me. If you so choose, you can stay with me. Until you can defeat your other demon, David…"

"Damon." Tempest corrected.

"Damon. Until you can defeat him, you can live with me. Beatrix is willing to train you, to make you stronger. You'll be safe from him. However, it's entirely up to you. You just admitted that you can't do it on your own. How long have you lived on your own?"

Tempest softened her face. Six years felt like centuries. She had her mother for sixteen years and then Damon came and killed her. Tempest had no other family. No aunts or uncles, and no cousins. Her mother was an only child. Damon certainly acted differently when he smelt Ciel on her. She swore she saw a faint hint of fear in his eyes that first night. However, was safety more important than her own freedom? Could she just drop everything in her life and stay cooped up in a luxurious house like a caged bird? Tempest couldn't live like that, not ever.

"On a few conditions." She spoke suddenly with a sharp tone.

"If they are within reason."

"I want to be able to go in and out as I please, when I please. I'm not going to be a caged bird for you or for anyone else. Got that?"

"I understand. Is there anything else?" He helped Tempest to her feet. He handed her the sword.

"I-I want to sleep in my own room again. And I also need to get my things from my apartment and my car too."

Ciel sighed at first. Tempest thought for a split second that he wouldn't agree to those terms.

"Agreed." Ciel said at last.

"Thank you."

"Can we get out of here before the police see us?" Ciel already headed for the exit.


	43. Intangibility Comes in Handy

Tempest got to her feet slowly, her head being a bit dizzy. They walked onto the front lawn of the Tower of London. They passed by the memorial slab when Tempest tripped over her own two feet. She grabbed one the edge of the monument. Ciel held out his hand.

"No, no," she pushed away his hand gently, "I think I can do this on my own."

"Are you sure?" Ciel sounded suspicious.

"I-I got it." She staggered to her feet.

On her own, she wobbled a bit. Tempest shook her head as if so wake herself up from a dream. She put one foot in front of the other only to nearly fall on her face. Ciel grabbed her arm and refused to obey her faint protests.

"I just need a minute to rest. I…I'm just really tired." She murmured. Tempest plopped into the grass, leaning her back against the monument.

"I can't imagine why." He remarked sarcastically.

Tempest shot him an angry look. "I did have the kind of night I was looking for. A few minutes ago, I was being made fun of by the ghost of Catherine Howard. The last thing I need…" She yawned, "Is for you to talk to me like that."

"The ghost of Catherine Howard, you say. What was she like?" Ciel wanted to keep conscious as long as possible. He saw neither Sebastian or Beatrix and her bright red car, which shouldn't be hard to miss.

"A total…witch. She mainly called me a coward. So came at her with some of her own medicine. I didn't spend six months of my college career doing nothing. I…studied Shakespeare for….almost two semesters. And I must say I…was…pretty good…at it." Tempest's eyes began to droop.

Ciel kneeled next to her, wrapping his coat around her shoulders as her head sunk lower. It wouldn't be big enough to wrap completely around her, but it was better than nothing at all. Tempest's eyes finally shut and her heart beat slowed to a steady pace. She drifted off into sleep. Ciel turned just as the heavy sounds of a car came racing towards the Tower. A flash of red zoomed by and then stopped feet away. Beatrix stepped out with Sebastian climbing, uneasily, out of the passenger side window. They arrived quickly.

"We have to go, _now_. Old Willie's called in for back-up and the cavalry is going to show up any minute. Grab your girlfriend and get in my car." Beatrix sprinted back the parked vehicle, whose engine was still running.

"Take her." Ciel ordered as he straightened himself.

Sebastian did as he was told, gingerly picked up the woman in a single move. He noticed Ciel's coat wrapped loosely around her small frame, however the coat could never be big enough to cover her properly. He smelled a trace of blood in the air, both coming from the Tower of London and from his master. The blood from the Tower of London could be easily explained. Centuries of blood shed surrounded the entire area. The memorial stone which sat almost precisely in the middle of the prison's lawn was still caked with blood of so many victims. However, this blood was distinct; in other words, not human. This same strange blood wafted from the inner part of the Tower and seemed to trail off on Ciel's clothing.

"Did you run into an obstacle, young master?" Sebastian placed Tempest in the back seat. He opened the door on the other side for Ciel to climb in.

"I did what was necessary." He said, and then nothing more.

A pair of hearses rolled in. William poked his head out of a driver's side window.

"Get in the car." Beatrix barked.

Sebastian did so, nearly slamming the door. Beatrix shifted the gear instantly. She looked in her side mirror at the hearses. A broad grin spread across her face. Her hand clutched the gear shift, fingers rapping steadily around the sphere.

"Buckle up," she smirked, but a second passed and even though no body slid the seat belts across their torsos, Beatrix slammed on the gas pedal.

Ignoring all speed limits, Beatrix drove like a madman, eyes occasionally glancing into her rearview mirror. The passengers were knocked around and tossed from side to side as she maneuvered the heavy vehicle through traffic. To people on the sidewalks, the car was nothing more than a flaming red streak zooming by. William was right behind them, chasing them down like blood hound with a scent. All the while, she kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift. Ciel understood why Sebastian had been so uneasy exiting the car earlier.

"Where on earth did you get your license to drive?" Ciel shouted from the back.

Beatrix only smiled and said, "What license?"

The color in Ciel's face paled. This wasn't going to be pleasant drive.

They cleared traffic in front of them, police finally caught on. Sirens blared behind them. Police cars squeezed in between the retro Cadillac and the hearses. However, now they were chased by not just one group of people, now two. Beatrix kept a steely grip on the clutch.

"Shouldn't you have both hands on the wheel?" Sebastian looked at the woman nervously.

"Trust me, sweetie. It'll make sense very soon." Beatrix kept her eyes forward.

They nearly made it downtown when Beatrix spotted police cars blocking the road. She skidded to a halt; however the gear remained in drive. The engine hummed loudly even above the cops shouting orders and sirens following in pursuit.

"What to do? What to do?" Beatrix wistfully asked herself, noting the many police officers. She pressed the CD player.

_On Highway 55, six feet under, where no one can find her. By milestone 91, a few feet from the road, the dessert running through her…_

Beatrix reached out and pressed another button. A roar erupted from the back of the car and the next thing Ciel saw were pitch black flames exploding from the tires and somewhere from the back. The cars that were trailing in behind them suddenly stopped.

"Let's show them what you can do, Roxy baby." Beatrix slammed on the gas against.

She spun the car around, speeding towards the police officers and their cars. All the conscious passengers held onto something as she paved the way. The policemen scrambled and abandoned their cars where they were. Ciel braced himself for impact, yet his ears were greeted with nothing but the sounds of screeching tires, blazing flames, and the roaring of the engine. He opened his eye to find that they had passed through the road blocks, as if they had turned into the very wind itself. He climbed up a little to look through the back window. Cops were watching from a long distance the car speeding away. They looked confused and shocked. Some of their faces even turned pale. The wheels left behind long burning trails of flames behind, scarring the already black road with two parallel track marks.

"What on earth?" He whispered.

"Intangibility, it comes in handy. So where am I going exactly?" Beatrix moved her hand to the steering wheel.

"Just get us to New York City," he ordered, "Crazy woman."

"I will turn this car around, little master. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for her." Beatrix snapped her fingers and lo and behold a bright light opened up in front of them.


	44. The Hangover and Fun with Pundit Squares

Sebastian opened the kitchen after hearing the screeching sound of a blender churning what sounded like rocks for the past several minutes. Beatrix glanced over her shoulder, keeping her hands firmly on the live machine. He inhaled sharply, unfortunately breathing in the rancid smell of whatever she was concocting.

"What…are…you…doing?" He kept an outward appearance of a calm gentleman, though the grim reaper was pushing her luck.

"Uncle Fanny's hang-over cure. He swears by it. Everyone in my family uses it," she shut down the blender.

"_Uncle_ Fanny?"

"You don't want to know, Sebastian. I'm related to the man and _I_ don't want to know." She replied while she poured the milky, yet chunky, contents into a tall glass.

"And this is for?" Sebastian didn't care, but just wanted to know why Beatrix was making that awful beverage in the first place and made a mess in the kitchen while doing so.

"This isn't for me. I didn't to drink, now did I? Bourbon is a fickle mistress, not as a bad as or tequila, though. Absinthe is just generally a royal tramp and don't get me started on vodka," Beatrix rambled as she glided past Sebastian, the glass steady in her hand.

"Sounds like you've had every drink under the sun," Sebastian started cleaning up the counter. He spotted broken eggshells in a dish and a used cup, which still had remnants of chopped onions sitting in the bottom.

"You know it." Beatrix winked and went out the door.

"I'm only glad that I don't have to drink it, whatever it is." Sebastian muttered bitterly as he threw out the eggshells into the trash receptacle.

Beatrix walked up to the bedroom door, deftly as possible.

"Your highness, I have some medicine for you," Beatrix sang loud and clear enough for Tempest to hear her.

Beatrix pressed her ear against the solid door and heard a long moan.

"I respect your need for privacy, but I'm coming in anyway. And you're drinking it too." Beatrix wasted no time bursting into the room.

Tempest opened one leery eye, her black hair running in front of her face and down her shoulders in an untamed mess. Beatrix pulled the loose strap of her negligee that had slipped down her pale arm. Tempest sat up in the bed, blinking, and groaning. Her thin fingers ran through her hair.

"What time is it?" She continued to moan.

"Noon," she held the glass under Tempest's nose. "Drink up."

One sniff and Tempest gagged.

"What is that?" She pointed, shaking her head.

"If I tell you want it is will you drink it?" Beatrix offered.

"Sure." Though the answer may not have been completely sincere.

"Uncle Fanny's hang-over be-gone. Eggs, onions, a dash of chives, milk, and a variety of unnamed spices. Now drink." Beatrix shoved the glass towards her.

"Do I have to?" Tempest whined.

"You said you would. A promise is a promise." The grim reaper pressed.

Tempest grabbed the glass then plugged her nose with her index finger and thumb. She hesitantly raised the rim to her lips and shut her eyes. Beatrix watched patiently as Tempest gulped down the concoction. She almost gagged, swallowed hard. The glass was slammed down on the nightstand. Tempest held onto her stomach, wiping the white residue from her mouth.

"That tasted…awful." Tempest breathed in hard.

"It should. Now give it a few minutes before it actually kicks in," Beatrix looked at her watch.

Tempest looked up with a confused look on her face.

"Oh, Uncle Fanny's hang-over be-gone is more of a _purging_ agent." Beatrix explained as she

Tempest's stomach rumbled loudly enough for the whole household to hear it. Bile rose in her throat. Clamping her hand over her mouth, Tempest sprang out of the bed, the sheets trailing after her as she entered into the private bath. Another came at the door.

"Yes," Beatrix chimed.

Ciel entered, confused at first when he couldn't see Tempest in bed.

"Where is she?"

The sounds of Tempest vomiting, hopefully into the toilet bowl, echoed into the bedroom.

"Bathroom." Beatrix answered.

* * *

Because this is an incredibly short chapter, and because I was totally bored and I can't fall asleep, even though it's like 1 AM when I'm typing this, I'll make a quick but fun author's note. So, a few weeks ago I stumbled upon this YouTube video about genetics and Avatar, the Last Airbender kind, or Legends of Korra. Whichever one floats your boat. This lady made a video about the genetic make-up of some of the characters. It was really cool, especially if you like both A: TLA and science. As I'm lying awake in bed, I start to think about my fanfiction, the same you are reading here. Then I remember the video I have previously mentioned, then I started wondering about the genetic make-up of my OC characters should I allow a certain kind of relationship to develop between the character's I have created and those by Yana Toboso.

Just for kicks, and don't think I want to put spoilers out there, let's consider the idea of Tempest and Ciel having a kid. Right now, the idea may seem a little disturbing because Ciel still looks like he hasn't hit puberty quite yet. Just hear me out.

For my theory's sake, let's consider Ciel's make-up to be DD, obviously his genetic make-up being completely dominant in demonic DNA (trying say that five times fast). And Tempest's looks like this: Gg, the little 'g' represents her human DNA, which means that the grim reaper DNA is dominant. Her eyes would be green, but they're not because of you know who. However, this doesn't negate the fact that her DNA is grim reaper dominant. Let's go back to biology class for brief moment. Are you there? Good, if not, look up Pundit squares yourselves.

What would happen if these two were to reproduce?

The DNA might look something like this:

G g

D DG Dg

D DG Dg

There's about a 50% shot that any of their kids would have her natural eyes.

I know, I know. This is a random author's note, but I didn't know what else to write for the chapter, so I wrote a somewhat comedic ending, though I put mostly filler stuff here because I didn't want to leave at just a few hundred words.


	45. Chapter 42

Tempest uneasily walked out the bathroom, a flannel robe flung over her shoulder. As her eyes glanced up and saw Ciel standing in the middle of her room, she panicked. She let out a soft screech and covered herself with the bathrobe.

"What are you doing in here? Didn't anyone teach you to knock when entering a lady's bedroom?" She cried out while she tied the bathrobe's belt firmly about her waist.

"You were…_pre-occupied_." Ciel answered coolly.

"That doesn't mean you can just stroll in here like you own the place."

"I do own this place."

Beatrix chuckled. "You two argue like an old married couple."

Tempest turned on her heels to hide the deep blush across her face and Ciel acted as natural as possible despite the faint pink hue added to his own cheeks.

Ciel cleared his throat, "We're leaving in half an hour to get your things. Can you be ready by then?"

"Y-yes," Tempest's voice squeaked momentarily. "Of course I can."

"Good. See you later then." He didn't bother turning his head to so much as to glance at the women, more specifically Tempest. Ciel silently left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Feeling better, princess?" Beatrix sat on the edge of the bed, her face like a Cheshire cat.

Tempest slowly turned. She went to the dresser and pulled out some clothes. Her eyes never went to look at Beatrix. There was still a blush across her face and she didn't want the older woman to see it. Beatrix seemed like the kind of person who liked to poke their nose in other people's business and the kind that liked to make others blush. Especially blush. Beatrix also acted like the kind of person who, was how to put it, brazen? Tempest couldn't shake the feeling that Beatrix had a perverted streak, much less subtle than Sebastian. He just looked lecherous. Beatrix acted and dressed like one who knew thing or two about the 'S' word.

"Are you a virgin?" Beatrix asked suddenly.

The blush in Tempest's cheeks turned a brand new shade of red. Her cheeks burned as if they had spontaneously combusted. She grinned nervously. Her feelings about Beatrix were right.

"W-why would you ask that?" Tempest knew that Beatrix was looking through her like a piece of cellophane.

"Just curious." Beatrix dug into the pockets of her jacket and pulled out a cigarette and lit it with her handy zippo-lighter. "You just have that aura of somebody who's never done the horizontal tango. I just wanted to make sure that my assumption was correct."

Tempest looked like she had been grievously insulted. Her blush remained and looked no lighter than before Beatrix presented Tempest with her question.

"You don't ask a person that!"

Beatrix inhaled from her cigarette and stood up. She raised her hands defensively.

"Alight, alright. No need to get your knickers in a twist, girly. I was just asking." Beatrix strolled out of the bedroom. She opened the door with her cigarette betwixt her lips. The grim reaper paused for a moment in the doorway, then took the cigarette from her mouth.

"One more thing, princess, if you don't mind."

"What is it?" Tempest didn't bother to disguise the agitation in her voice.

"You don't need to worry about Ciel ever getting too handsy. He's not the type."

"How would you know?"

"I can see it in his eyes. Well, eye. I've met a lot of gents in my day and I've had my fair share of liars, scoundrels, cheaters and beaters. So believe me when I say Ciel won't go any further than you want him to. He may let his demonic instincts overwhelm him by mistake, but he won't bring himself to force anything on you wouldn't want. Besides, if he's anything like William, he's still got a Victorian Era mindset. He's probably more of a virgin than you are." Beatrix finished.

Tempest could still smell the smoke of Beatrix's cigarette wafting through the air. She stopped picking up clothes from the drawers, thinking. She lowered her eyes. The blush on her face never vanished. Her teeth clenched down on her lower jaw.

"If only you knew…"

Tempest rested her chin on her hand, her mouth covered by it. She stared blankly out the tinted windows, staring into nothing. While Ciel assumed that she was still contemplating her new life, Tempest kept her mind occupied with what Beatrix told her. The grim reaper was wrong. She wasn't a virgin at all. There were things Tempest kept to herself. She wasn't going to spill her guts to a complete stranger, even if this stranger was going to help her become strong. And telling Sebastian, or, God forbid, Ciel, was even more unlikely. She wondered if demons could smell the difference between someone who was a virgin and one that wasn't. It seemed like a silly idea. Just because they were demons, don't automatically mean that their sense of smell was any better than hers. Then again, what did she know. She spent the past few years avoiding one, so what did she know about the abilities or disabilities of demons.

Speaking of which, why hadn't Damon followed her to England? Why didn't he show up at any given moment that she was alone? Granted she attracted the attention of a serial killer and another demon, who was later killed by Ciel, she worried that Damon would do something drastic when she disappeared. He would have known that she was gone. He knew where she lived, where she worked, all of the theaters she performed in, and even where she bought groceries. There was no way he would have simply thought she went on vacation and not try to follow her. Just thinking about him made her stomach churn. Tempest suddenly felt a sense of panic and despair rushing through her. She had a bad feeling all of a sudden.

She shifted abruptly, leaning back into the seat. Ciel noticed the drawn look on her face.

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing you should worry about."

Ciel sighed. "I am only trying to be your friend."

Tempest opened her mouth to speak, when Sebastian's head appeared from the driver's window. His face looked grim as ever.

"I believe there is something you must see, young master." He spoke seriously.

"Have we arrived?" Ciel rose from his seat.

"Yes, but there's a bit of a complication I'm afraid."

"What are you talking about?" Tempest opened the door despite Sebastian's voice commanding her to stop.

She exited the limo briskly, ignoring Sebastian and Ciel completely. Feet ahead of her, she discovered why they wanted her to stop. Tempest's eyes were opened wide at the complete devastation before her. Where the apartment building should have been stood only remnants of wall structures and piles of debris. The earth had been darkened to a black ash. A yellow band around the perimeters forbade people to go any further.

"My apartment…it's gone. Everything is gone." She muttered under her breath.

A stout man with a receding hair line just left the dry cleaners adjacent to the apartment building that clearly incinerated to nothing but ash and piles of rubble. It was Mister Johann, the building manager. Tempest ran up to him. His dark green eyes looked wearily at her, the weathered lines in his face looked even more worn down with life than ever. Johann did his best to grin, but there wasn't much to grin about, now was there?

"What the hell happened to my apartment? I leave for a couple weeks and I come back and the whole thing goes up in smoke. What happened?"

The old man shook his head. He sighed. "Do you have enemies?"

Tempest didn't know what to make of his question. Besides Damon and her theater rival, Botticelli, there weren't any others who would want to cause her harm.

"I don't understand, sir. Why would you ask me that? I'm just a little confused," Tempest answered honestly.

"Because _that,"_ Mister Johann pointed his large finger at the remains, "was caused by arson. Last week, the security cameras caught a guy smashing up your car and then enter the building. The next thing you know, BOOM. The gas line blows and half the building's fire. We managed to get as many people as possible out but, some…didn't make it."

"How many," she referred to those who died in the fire.

"Ten. Three tenants who lived near the basement where the fire started, another two who tried to help them. Mrs. Johnson on the second floor from smoke inhalation. Miss Tripoli broke her ankle trying to get out of her burning apartment. The Carters on the first floor and the DePauw's son, who stayed at home 'cause he was sick."

Tempest gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth. "That's terrible." The thing about living in New York, one tended to get their neighbors well. Cram millions of people on one island and you get into the habit of getting to know more than half of them. She liked the DePauw's and the rest of her neighbors, though she didn't always show it. She lived like a hermit, but she was nice to everybody. She even once helped Mrs. Johnson when she broke her hip and needed help around her apartment.

"I was told that I should tell you to go to the police as soon as I saw you. To give your statement to them. Whoever this wacko is, I assume he's coming after you. Nobody else's car was busted up. You're alright, aren't you kiddo?" Mister Johann asked sincerely.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just…this is just a huge shock." Tempest turned and headed for the limo.

"By the way," Mister Johann shouted after her, "Where have you been in the past two weeks?"

"It's a _very _long story and I gotta get going." She disappeared into the limo. Tempest slammed the limo door, breathing heavily through her nose. By the looks of it, she was on the brink of tears.

"Damon killed ten people. He murdered them, trying to get to me. They caught him on tape and he set my apartment building on fire." Tempest buried her face in her hands.

"Did you tell that man over that you knew the identity of the arsonist, then?" Ciel asked.

"No," Tempest snapped. "How stupid do you think I am? What was I supposed to say to him? I'm terribly sorry, Mister Johann, but I'm afraid that my demon stalker burned down the building while I was away finding my biological father in England. Yeah, that would have gone very well."

"What do you want to do now?"

"I have to go over to the police and give them a statement. I'll do the best I can to avoid identifying Damon, but I can't make any promises." Tempest huffed. "He murdered ten people. Including a kid. I hate him so much."


	46. Chapter 43

"So, you have no idea who this man is?" The sergeant asked for the second time.

Tempest shook her head. "Yes and no. I've seen him maybe a dozen times, but I never caught his name. I thought he was an overzealous fan."

"A fan?" The sergeant's brow rose in suspicion.

"I'm an actress," Tempest explained, "I do a lot of plays between work. I'm not famous or anything, at least not yet. But my name is out there in the 'underground' theater world."

"I see," the police sergeant mumbled. He rifled through some papers and looked up once at Tempest who sat perfectly still in the chair across from his desk. He decided that if she had anything to do with this arsonist, she would have come clean. Her home and her car were destroyed. How could he not believe her?

"And where have you been in the past two weeks?"

Tempest heaved a heavy sigh. "You won't believe me when I tell you this. A couple of weeks ago, I found the name of my biological father. You see, I was raised solely by my mom. She took the name of my father to her grave that is until recently when an old friend appeared and told me where I could find him. It was very sudden, I know, and very unprofessional, but I wanted to know who that man was. Does that make any sense to you, sir?"

The sergeant nodded. "That's I need from you then. You can be assured that we'll find this psycho before he hurts anybody else. Don't wander around late at night, please?" The two of them rose from their chairs.

Tempest shook the officer's hand and turned to leave. She passed many other desks and offices before heading out of the entrance door. The limo was still waiting outside for her at the NYPD headquarters. Bystanders looked at the limo with confusion and some concern. Others took pictures, tourists most likely. Tempest climbed in wordlessly. She rubbed her temples as she tried to get a grip on herself.

"Head for the Fifth-Third Bank on Madison, would you?" It was more of a demand than a request.

"Don't tell him what to do. That's my job." Ciel chided.

"Pardon me, milord, if I'm just a tiny bit agitated over the fact that my home burned to the ground and nearly everything I owned in it. I have a few things in a safety deposit box that I need to get out."

Ciel sighed, annoyed, "Head for the Fifth-Third Bank on Madison."

"Yes, my lord."

Absent-mindedly, Tempest put her hand to her mouth and started chewing on her fingernails. A nervous habit she picked up from her grandmother and her own mother.

"It's really not healthy to be doing that," Ciel pointed out.

"I'd really appreciate it if you didn't talk to me right now. I'm just not in the mood today."

"Very well."

* * *

Ciel followed Tempest in the bank. He stood close to the exit while she talked to one of the staff members. After a couple minutes, Tempest motioned to him to come closer. The clerk led them down a corridor which ended in a solid, steel door. Buttons each made an individual, digital chime as the clerk typed in the code. The heavy steel door swung open and the clerk produced a key from his pocket. He placed it in her hand.

"Here we are, Miss McIntyre. I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you." Then the clerk disappeared.

"Thanks." Tempest immediately when for the wall lined with metal doors at least two feet long and three feet wide. She turned the key inside the lock, opened the sealed door, and retrieved the heavy box from the built-in shelf. Single-handedly, Tempest carried the box to the table sitting in the middle of the room. The metal box didn't own a lock, so she simply pried the lid up and inspect the contents.

Inside were some photo albums, bank statements, and other miscellaneous trinkets. Tempest pulled up the only chair and sat down. The small chamber echoed with the sounds of her rustling papers and pulling things out to further examine them. Ciel watched her from the furthest corner. He wanted to say something, anything really, but words couldn't form in his brain. Nothing he thought of seemed appropriate. This woman before him lost her house and her car. The last things she owned in this world she owned in that box, besides the clothes on her back and whatever was at Ciel's manor.

"You can stop staring at me," Tempest never bothered to raise her head and look away from the task at hand.

"Excuse me?"

"I can feel your eye boring into the side of my head. You're not being subtle at all."

They each went silent for a long while.

"I should be thanking you, I suppose." Tempest suddenly blurted out.

"For what?" Ciel turned to her again. "What have I done for you to be grateful for?"

"Well, besides setting up a meeting with my father and saving my life from Damon, you, and that butler of yours, made me realize something. If I'm going to be immortal, I might as well learn to stop _acting _brave and be the kind of woman that can stand on her own two feet and not rely on a man to be her protection."

"You mean you were acting when you saved yourself in Ebonyshire?"

Tempest scoffed. "Please, I wouldn't have made it if my dad hadn't stepped in."

"But you killed him yourself." Ciel spoke in a soft tone as to not attract the wrong kind of attention.

"And look what happened afterwards. I was a shivering mess. On the way back, I threw up. It may have been in self-defense and yeah, he deserved it. But I don't want to do that kind of thing ever again. I can still his face, his blood on my hands, his corpse lying in the street. The smell of his blood, the sound he made as he lay dying at my feet. It scared me. I don't want to kill anyone. It's not in my nature." She stopped shuffling things aside.

"Says the progeny of a death god," Ciel added like a smart-aleck.

Tempest turned to him for the first time, glaring. Her mouth opened to make a comeback when the bank's alarm system went off. She flew to the door just as it was beginning to close. The heavy steel door slowly shut. Tempest managed to hear people screaming and bullets hitting the ceiling before the door shut for good. In her feeble attempts, Tempest tried to pry open the door on her own with no success. She slammed her fist against the solid door, but she doubted anyone could be able to hear. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Going the nearest wall, Tempest slid to the floor like a limp ragdoll.

"It appears we're locked in." Tempest huffed.


	47. Chapter 44

"Why don't you call for Sebastian? Surely he can get this blasted door open," Tempest turned to Ciel.

He wearily shook his head. "It wouldn't do us any good. He'd just appear in here with us, on the inside. He has to be on the other side of the door to get it open. More, importantly, I can't have him cause any more chaos than what's going on out there. It's better if we just stay put and wait for the police to find us."

"That could take hours. This is New York. Do you know how many crimes are going on right now? It'll be forever before the police show up. And they could be taking hostages right now. They could come pounding on the door any second with guns ablazing."

"They're criminals. They're interested in fast cash. They wouldn't bother opening every single one of these vaults just for a few items."

"You know a lot about criminals."

"It's a long story."

"We have time."

"Are you really interested or are you just trying to find something to do while we're trapped in here together," Ciel questioned her motives.

"A bit of both to be honest." Tempest replied. She tucked her chin upon her knees and waited for him to say something next.

"I'm afraid that it's neither the time nor the place to discuss my past." Truth was that Ciel didn't feel at all comfortable with the subject. Not with her, anyways.

"Have it your way then."

Ciel approached the table as quietly as possible. His bare fingers grazed along the spine of one of three photo albums. He slipped his index finger between the book cover and the first page. His head turned to Tempest, who stared blankly at the door. Turning his attention back to the album, he flipped it open. Tempest made no sound or complaint so without further ado, Ciel began turning pages. Each page had nothing special on them. Mainly family photos, mainly of Tempest and her mother. There stood to be a great difference between the girl in the photos and the woman who sat on the floor a few feet away from him. Tempest's previously green eyes kind of glowed with hope. Though bright and beautiful, Tempest's new, blue eyes were dimmed with a kind of sorrow, like she wasn't completely there.

As he went through the album, he occasionally glanced at Tempest. She didn't stir or look at him. Once, while he was looking away from the photo album, his hand slipped and sent a pamphlet fly out from between two pages. He picked it up, noticing that it was a playbill. Tempest turned to him as he picked up from the floor.

"The first play my mom took me to see. She got the furthest seats from the stage so I could see better."

"_Les Miersables_. I hear it's good." He added.

"_There was a time when men were kind, and their voices were soft and their words inviting. There was a time when love was blind and the world was a song and the song was exciting. There was a time… then it all went wrong."_

Ciel turned and listened. The lyrics flew from her lips at first in a hushed melody. As she slowly got up to her feet, the words became clearer. He paused and then listened closely.

"_I dreamed a dream in time gone by, when hope was high and life worth living. I dreamed that love would never die. I dreamed that God would be forgiving. When I was young and unafraid…"_

Her voice cracked slightly. Ciel could see from where he stood small tears bubbling up in the corner of her eyes.

"_There was no ransom to be paid. No song unsung, no wine untasted. But the tigers come at night with their voices soft as thunder as they tear your hope apart, as they turn your dreams to shame."_

Her feet began to wander.

"_He slept a summer by my side. He filled my days with endless wonder. He took my childhood in his stride but he was gone when autumn came! And still I dream he'll come to me, that we would live the years together. But there are dreams that cannot be! There are storms we cannot weather! I had a dream my life would be, so different from this hell I'm living, so different now from what it seemed! Now life has killed the dream…I dreamed." _

Tempest wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "I shouldn't have done that."

"You know suffering better than anyone I've met. Were you truly that miserable in your childhood?"

"Don't put your nose into my business." Tempest stormed over and slammed the photo album shut.

"You're so easy to read, but the book is no fun if one can't skim through the pages."

"Then what's the point of reading if you just skip to the end. Perhaps the book has secrets the author doesn't want people to see unless she can trust them. You wouldn't know about them if you skip to the end or skim through it. You miss all of the important information otherwise," she continued.

"True, but there are some passages that are difficult. Sometimes it's easier if the author just says what she wants to say and be clear about her feelings. Wouldn't you agree?" Ciel smirked.

Tempest turned away to hide her blushing cheeks. The door finally creaked open. A police officer appeared, his hand on the butt of the gun on his hip. He looked around and saw that neither one of them was a threat.

"Are you two okay?"

"Y-yes, officer. We're perfectly alright," Tempest gathered the contents into one pile and shoved the box back into its vault. Taking the items in her arms, she walked quickly out of the inner chamber, her face still flushed.


	48. Chapter 45

"How hard is it for you to understand and complete orders? I told you that she would be there. I gave you a map, weapons, and instructions! And you dare come back to me without her!" Damon's booming voice bounced off the empty warehouse's metallic walls.

"Whoa, whoa. Keep your breeches on. You paid us to rob the bank and grab the girl. You said that you would keep the cops away. We did just as you said, but you didn't hold up your end of the bargain. Now, my partners are in jail. Don't you get all high and mighty with me, pal." A bulky blonde man bellowed, his thick Brooklyn accent giving him away as a resident of New York City.

"I did. It's not my fault that you didn't your job right," Damon growled.

"And it ain't my fault that she was locked inside that vault…" His words stopped short as Damon's hand seized him by the throat, black nails digging into his skin. He held him up in the air, his leather shoes swinging freely clear off the ground.

"Then perhaps I shouldn't bother keeping you around if you can't bring me a target as simple as a girl." His nails dug further and broke through the skin. The blood trickled through Damon's fingers.

"I have no use for worthless trash like you," he went deeper through the nameless man's throat until his fingers burrowed inside. Damon could feel the pulsing veins and arteries in between his now red fingers.

The man opened his mouth, but the only sounds that came out were unintelligible gurgles. A trickle of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. Damon watched passively as the familiar grey film washed over the man's terrified eyes. Damon immediately retracted his hands and the bloody corpse fell at his feet.

"You always were a messy killer." Damon growled at the sound of that vile woman's voice. He didn't even bother turning around.

"Alessandra…"

"Damon."

"I hear you've been stalking a girl, Damon. Had I known you had such an infatuation, I may have been willing to lend a hand."

"I don't need your help."

Alessandra peered behind her brother at the corpse and then glanced as his blood-soaked hands. Her finely shaped browed arched.

"Oh, and I supposed killing your subordinates is how you get things done?" Alessandra asked, she held her hands behind her back. Her high heeled shoes clicked along the floor as she circled Damon and the body.

"I'll say this once more, I don't need your help." Damon gritted his teeth. His eyes began glowing red.

"See, that's where you're wrong. You're in way over your head, dear brother. This girl is out of your league."

"Really now? Since when? I know for a fact that she's a human. You don't need to concern yourself about my affairs. Now leave."

Alessandra turned her head slightly, her own red eyes glared at him with a white-hot anger. Silver-white fangs protruded from her lips. She snarled.

"That is where you're _dead_ wrong, brother. I was minding my own business in a little village outside London a couple days ago, and lo and behold, I come a across a juicy mortal soul about to be killed by a madman. And do you know what happened next? A sword dropped out of the sky, tossed out of the hand of Undertaker. Then I hear that not only is this certain mortal a relative of Undertaker, she's his _daughter_. Do you know the implications? Do you have any idea what you are doing to yourself, to our family? You're putting our family name on the line and you're messing up the whole thing by wasting your time with a girl so far out of your reach it's not even funny!"

Damon's jaw dropped.

"What? You didn't know. You've been watching this girl for years and you never once suspected anything unusual. She reeks of a grim reaper. Did you think those eyes she had were normal? What human has green eyes like a death god when they're blind? Did you think? Do you have a brain in the space between your ears?"

"Alessandra…I swear…"

"You didn't know? You are so stupid!"

Damon barely blinked when his sister launched herself at him, her nails fully extended into claws. Her hand came down, tearing through his clothes and flesh. A set of steely claws plunged deep inside his chest, breaking bones and tearing muscle. Damon coughed blood.

"Did you think I was going to sit back while you ruined us? You're a disgrace to demons everywhere! You're weak, stupid, and have no right to have an ego like yours. You're too young," Alessandra hissed, her hands dug around until she found his heart.

"T-Tempest…"

"Don't worry about her, she'll be in good hands. Mine. You were dumb enough to not think things through properly. That girl is a very good pawn to use. A hostage. Those grim reapers would be willing to do just about anything to get her away from demons, wouldn't they? Too bad you didn't think about that, do did you?"

More blood spurted from his mouth.

"I-I'll be seeing you again," Damon spat, then died.

Alessandra tossed his body to the floor. "Unlikely."


	49. Chapter 46

Some Weeks Later

Beatrix pushed wide open the front doors. Tempest brushed past her, a thick script curled up in her hands. Tempest clearly looked upset. Her blue eyes glared at everything she saw. It looked like she was angry with the whole of the world. She tightened her lips into a sharp frown.

"We're home, if anybody cares," Beatrix shouted.

Sebastian put away a watering can and looked at the women who had just arrived home.

"I take it that you didn't get the part, Miss Tempest," he sensed a heated rage erupting from her.

"Oh, no, I got a part. The problem is that I've been typecast! Again!" She threw the script to the floor.

Sebastian wordlessly picked up the manuscript, flipping through the pages with his gloved hands. He noticed that several of the lines were highlighted in pink ink. The front cover had a single character's name highlighted in the same color as the lines.

"Mrs. Lovett? It seems as though you play a very important role in this production. You should be proud." He handed Tempest the manuscript.

"I would be if this wasn't the sixth or seventh production in which my character dies!" She began storming away to her bedroom. "Either I'm very good at dying or someone up there hates me!"

The butler turned his attention to the grim reaper. She shook her head, sighing.

"She was like that the whole way home. All she did was complain about how her characters always die before or in the final act. I don't get paid enough to listen _that _and be her bodyguard."

"You don't get paid at all," Sebastian corrected.

"Go back to watering your master's plants, would you, butler boy?" Beatrix retrieved a cigarette from her coat pocket. "If you need me, which I hope you won't, I'll be outside smoking."

Sebastian plucked the cigarette right from between her fingers before she could even reach the back door to the garden. He glared at her, but did so with an odd look on his face, almost smirking with murder in his eyes.

"I highly recommend that you don't disrespect me again, Miss Bathory. I cannot be held responsible for the injuries you may sustain if you insult me again."

Beatrix glared right at him and snatched her unlit cigarette back from him. She put it between her lips and extracted her zippo lighter. Knowing how he hated the smell of cigarettes, she lit it up in front of him, inhaled, and blew the smoke definitely in his face. Her red lips smirked as she watched his right eye twitch.

"And I recommend you don't _ever _take my cigarette from me. You can pretend to be an over-grown penguin and keep up the charades as a neat, clean, and repressed Victorian butler, but you and I both know that your true nature hardly suits your current…occupation. And believe me, I can be just as mean and nasty as you claim to be. I'm a devil of a grim reaper, Sebastian."

"Then you'll be the death of me," he sighed maliciously.

"Damn straight," Beatrix turned away from him and swayed her hips as she walked to the garden door. "By the way, Miss Bathory is my aunt, who's been single since 1823. Call me Beatrix."

Sebastian couldn't stop himself from watching Beatrix make her way out through the glass door. He could not tell if she was doing it on purpose or if this how she acted towards all men. Beatrix had this odd combination of masculine and feminine qualities. She could flirt like a professional beauty and then turn right around and plant sucker punch to somebody's face. Sebastian had seen her in action before, fighting Grell. He had fought with the other grim reaper before, but managed to get a few scrapes here and there. Beatrix handled her, him? Handled _her _with much better luck, taking her out with one swing. Granted a shovel seemed like an inelegant reaping tool of choice, it came in handy.

The grandfather clock, which sat like a dusty relic of times gone by in the entryway, struck three P.M. Time to fetch the mail. Sebastian walked out into the fresh air. Autumn was on its way. The maple trees in the front yard were already turning to shades of bright yellows and red. A breeze of damped, chill air blew past, however he didn't feel the least bit unnerved by the change in weather. Rather, the cool air slid past him like he felt nothing at all. He didn't so much as shiver or pull his arms together to warm himself. One of the many perks about being a demon was that most weather patterns didn't faze you. As a demon, Sebastian could feel the autumn air around him, it just didn't bother him. Demons were made of thicker skin than humans after all. The white mail truck had just dropped off several things into the black box nailed to the wrought iron gate. He pulled the contents one at time, skimming through the various names. Bills, invitations to parties his master would most likely decline to attending, some letters. For a moment, Sebastian thought he gathered up everything. That is until his hands glided over a thick packet of some kind sitting at the bottom of the mail box. Pulling it out, he had to remind himself that it wasn't just his master living in the house anymore. Tempest's name was scrawled in blue ink over the large portion of a new envelope. But what was more surprising was the sending address. Sebastian read it, then read again and read it a third time. His eyes were fine and there was no mistake.

"Sing Sing?"

Then a memory of a strange event from a week ago popped inside his head.

_Tempest ate silently at the dining room table, occasionally at the time on her brand new cell phone. The master insisted on getting her one, just as an extra precaution. She seemed agitated, but she kept it to a minimum. _

_Another fifteen minutes past and nothing but silence. However, her phone went off and she instantly answered it. _

"_Hello, Mr. Johann. Did you get my message? Thank you so much. There's already something for me? Where from?" Tempest dropped her fork onto the table, resounding in a noisy clatter. The pallor in her face went pale. _

"_I see," she continued solemnly, her energy drained so quickly. "T-thank you so much. I apologize for the inconvenience."_

"Keeping secrets, eh, Miss Tempest?"


	50. Chapter 47

Sebastian tucked the letter inside his coat and returned to the house. The young master sat in his private study. He seemed busy at the moment, but without hesitation Sebastian placed the stack of mail on his desk anyway.

"Was there anything else?" Ciel didn't even look up from the papers in front of him.

"There was a rather peculiar letter addressed to Miss Tempest." He heard footsteps echoing from the hallway. The study's door was left wide open.

"How is it unusual? I told her she could redirect her mail here for the time being."

"But this was addressed from a place called 'Sing Sing.'"

Ciel stopped writing to think for a minute. "It's a prison in upstate New York. Why would she…? Never mind, it's none of my business. Just give it to her before she thinks you're stealing her mail."

"You're really not at all curious, sir?"

"No." Ciel said bluntly. He wheeled his chair around so that he faced the wall instead of Sebastian.

The butler smiled wickedly and retrieved the envelope from his coat. He stepped around the oak desk until he stood next to his master. In his white-gloved hand, he held out the letter in front of Ciel's face, tempting him.

"Are you sure?" He continued to tease.

Ciel glanced at it, though he suppressed the urge to take it. If he was trying to get on Tempest's good side, opening a very private letter was the last thing he wanted to do. Something deep down inside his gut told him not to even bother with it. Let the girl come clean of her own accord. Don't force her to tell him anything. That was his plan. After the fiasco in the pool nearly a month before and what he said on the train to Ebonyshire, Ciel treaded very carefully. But his damned butler was making it so hard. Come to think of it, Sebastian's file on the actress hadn't been fully read. He put it aside once she was inside his home. It seemed, for a lack of a better word, inappropriate to read her personal history when she was under his roof. Here was an opportunity to find out more about her, but could he take his chances? Ciel's hand hesitantly reached for the letter when Tempest made her presence known, loud and clear.

"Give me that letter!" Neither one of them had seen such a look of hatred and anger on anyone until that moment. There was murder in her eyes. She glanced from Sebastian to the letter then to Ciel and then back to Sebastian.

Sebastian immediately pulled the letter away and Ciel stood up from his chair. The butler wiped the teasing smile off his face. In his hand, he held out the letter. However, Tempest only stood there for several minutes, glaring at them until she felt that her feelings of betrayal and anger were made known.

"You have a lot of nerve." The blue spheres of her eyes almost glowed like dark embers.

"I did not realize that you were there," Sebastian said innocently.

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it. The door was wide open. I heard the entire thing! Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think you can go poking around my personal affairs and get away with it?" She snatched the letter from his hand. Her fierce gaze turned to Ciel next.

"And you," she pointed a finger so struck with anger it trembled, "I was beginning to think that you weren't such a bad person. I was beginning to think of you as a friend and then you pull this kind of stunt! Were you seriously going to read this letter, knowing that it's very personal? I don't know what I'm supposed to do with you! One minute you act like a saint, and then you turn around and smack me with your devil's tail. If this is how you will treat me as a friend, I want nothing to do with you!"

Tempest spun on her heels and began storming away. Ciel froze for a second, watching her leave a heated rage with him as the cause. Rushing towards her, his hand seized Tempest's wrist. She slowly turned her head with a face of unadulterated hatred with a trace of betrayal. Her mouth formed a solid, disappointed frown. Nothing it seemed could force it up again as she scowled down at him. Her icy stare caused him to let her go. He said nothing in his defense. Ciel became lost in those eyes so dismayed by his actions. She never said a word either, only storming out and slamming the door behind her.

Ciel stood for a few seconds, regained himself, and went after her again. However, by the time he found her, she slipped into her bedroom. Beatrix entered the hallway, shaking her head as if she was disappointed. She turned her nose upwards like some kind of aristocrat who had been insulted when her blazing green eyes spotted Ciel standing in the middle of the hallway.

"I believe you've just screwed yourself, Ciel Phantomhive." She stood next to him.

"How much did you hear?"

"Just about everything. Here's a hint: don't look through a girl's mail unless she gives you permission. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I wasn't actually going to read it!" Ciel retorted.

Beatrix glanced at him from below her glasses. "You weren't, were you? That's not what she thinks. From what I just heard, she saw you going for the letter, if it wasn't already in your greedy little hands."

"It wasn't."

"Fine. Believe what you want to believe. But you're not going to win her trust again for a long time. Either that or you come up with something that would make her reconsider. And then, you'd have to work pretty fast. Women, whether human or otherwise, are incredibly complex. We can forgive quickly or not at all and in this instance I wouldn't be surprised if she never forgave you. I wouldn't. You can't just put your hand into a girl's past without expecting consequences."

"Then what do you recommend I should do?" Ciel stared at his shoes.

The grim reaper and the butler exchanged glances. Beatrix thought that the smaller demon was willing to do anything to become closer to Tempest, but she didn't expect him to ask for advice.

"I'm sorry," cleaned her ears out with her right index finger. "I'm afraid I had something in my ears. Could you repeat that?"

Ciel sighed angrily. "What do you think I should do in order to get her trust back?" His question came out strained.

"First of all, look me in the eye." Beatrix folded her arms across her chest.

"I don't take orders. Especially from someone like you," Ciel continued on his way.

"So you don't my advice then? I mean, after all, what would I know about women's feelings? It's not like I'm a woman." The grim reaper replied snidely.

Sighing again, Ciel turned around and looked at Beatrix in the eyes.

"Good. That's your first lesson. Every woman deserves respect. You should always look a woman in the eyes when speaking to her directly. Second, don't talk to her for a while. Wait until she's calmed down."

"How long will that take?"

"Patience is a virtue, _sir_. This might take longer than you'd like, but don't pressure her into talking with you until she seems calmed down. The last thing she wants is for you to badger her."

"I think I can manage that. What else?"

A grin stretched across Beatrix's face from ear to ear.

"I don't like that look on your face, Bathory." Ciel suddenly regretted going to the grim reaper for advice. But who else was he to turn to? Sebastian. Something told him that wouldn't be a wise choice to make.

"The third thing you should do is show her your…weaknesses. It wouldn't hurt to show her an act of kindness and compassion while you're at it. Like, I don't know," she pretended to think for a minute, "Give her something meaningful. Like that file in your drawer that you have on the poor girl."

"H-how'd you know about that?"

"I get bored when your butler's not around." Beatrix went on towards Tempest's bedroom. She slipped silently through the door after winking at Ciel.

He returned to his study. He glared at Sebastian. His hand tore away his eye patch and his other eye turned to an angry magenta color.

"This is my order, Sebastian. Don't you dare put me in a position like that ever again."

Sebastian placed his hand over his heart and bowed deeply. "Yes, my lord."


	51. Chapter 48

Tempest snuck down to the kitchen that same night, hours after dinner. She couldn't stand to look at either Ciel or Sebastian. She expected Sebastian to pull something so cruel, but not Ciel. Nobody saw her creep downstairs and nobody made a peep when she broke open the liquor cabinet. Her greedy hands went for the good stuff: a brand new bottle of scotch. She found a nice little shot glass to be her drinking companion. She easily pulled the bottle's top with expert hands. The amber liquid filled the shot glass smoothly.

Raising it to her lips, Tempest swallowed it whole. She poured another and a third, each time feeling relief and at the same time deep regret. She shouldn't be drinking away her problems. This was unhealthy. Yet, she couldn't control it. Tempest had been drinking long before it was even legal for her. No one else wanted to be around her. She could drown her sorrows in alcohol. It was the easiest route. Much better than talking to some therapist about her issues and have them diagnose her. The last thing she wanted was to be medicated like she was some sort of mental patient. No, that kind of life was not part of her plan. Then again, neither was living with some demons and a grim reaper.

"When did you start drinking?" Beatrix asked.

Tempest wasn't drunk yet, but she was on her way. She swallowed her forth shot.

"Ten minutes ago." She snapped.

"That's not what I meant." Beatrix sounded serious.

Ignoring her, Tempest poured her fifth, tossing it back like a pro. Before she could fill another shot full of scotch, Beatrix slammed her palm down over the glass. Tempest answered Beatrix's refusing move with a glare.

"You can't drink your problems away." She said sternly.

"I can try," Tempest moved the shot glass out of reach, poured another despite Beatrix's protests, and drank.

Tempest leaned over the counter, alcohol suddenly taking affect. If only she weighed a few more pounds, it wouldn't take liquor to course through her body so quickly.

"How long ago did you start drinking?" Beatrix gave up trying to make Tempest quit drinking. She painfully watched as the girl tossed back more shots.

Tempest inhaled sharply, pressing her forehead against the counter. "Sixteen."

Beatrix knew for sure there was problem. As far as she knew, Americans couldn't drink alcohol until they were 21 and according to Tempest, she'd been drinking well before that. Pieces to a puzzle seemed to fit now. Tempest knew what alcohol she liked, even though she was just 22 and there wasn't enough time for her to sample every alcoholic drink out there. When she drank, she seemed immune to some of the effects, like she had built up resistance and could perform certain things a normal drinker couldn't. Having a death god for a father, Tempest needn't worry about dying from liver failure anymore. Still, it was unhealthy for anyone, human or not, to drink as much as she did.

"When my mother…died, there wasn't anybody around. Grandma died. Uncle was tossed in jail. None of her co-workers wanted to deal with me. Foster-parents put up with me for two years just to collect tax refunds and then pushed me out into the streets. Booze is easy to come by when you're sixteen, if you know the right…people."

"Rewind and freeze," Beatrix clamped her hands onto Tempest's shoulders. The girl's head sank a little bit, then rose again, nodding off to the side.

"I didn't tell you? That's right, dear old Uncle Mark got himself thrown in jail. Want to know why?" Tempest hissed.

"I'm not going to like what you're about to say…"

"I was 12…when he…took advantage of me. And he got away with it too! Why? Because I was legally blind then! Never mind… the fact that I heard his voice, knew what he smelled like, and what his hands felt like. He gets arrested for doing the same thing to another…girl, and I live with this…this scar…this burden for the rest of my…life. He ruined me and nobody ever believed me. Nope. Only my…mom." Tempest slurred.

Tempest bowed her head and tried to hide the tears forming. But it was no use. Her throat clenched and the only sounds she could make were guttural sobs and moans.

"And do you think your mom would want to see you like this? Do you think she'd be proud of you? She wouldn't want this of you. You're so much stronger than this. Pull yourself together, girly." Beatrix patted Tempest's head and rested her face on her shoulder.

Tempest sobbed there, unmoving. Beatrix swung her around until she stood at her side and looped her weak arm around her own neck. They stumbled out of the kitchen, passed through the dining room, past the foyer, and up the grand staircase. She opened the door, and Tempest stumbled in first, landing on her face. Beatrix easily lifted the girl to her feet and got her on the bed. She quickly disposed of her slippers, tossing them aside, and pulled the covers off Tempest's trembling body. The grim reaper sat on the edge of the bed, saying comforting words until Tempest had calmed down.

Beatrix turned off the light as she left, shutting the door as quietly as possible. She marched her way into Ciel's bedroom, just as he was sitting up reading a book. He gave her a weary glance and returned to reading.

"This had better be good," he mumbled. He needed a good night's rest to forget this awful day.

"We have a situation." Beatrix stated bluntly.

"Does it concern Tempest?" Ciel was careful not to let too much worry show in his words. He had feelings for the woman that had already been proven. But he didn't want people to see his weaknesses, despite what Beatrix suggested to him earlier that day.

"Need you even ask," she returned snidely.

Ciel slammed shut the book and immediately put it on his nightstand.

"Good, I have your attention. There's two things I'm about to tell you that you might not like so brace yourself. One, I hope you weren't looking forward to that bottle of scotch in your liquor cabinet because Tempest has already got her hands on it. Which leads me to number two; I have reason to believe that she is also an alcoholic. She shows many of the signs and to be frank she needs help. She told me just now, granted it was in a drunken stupor, that she's been drinking since she was 16. Now, I don't know much about America, but I'm pretty sure it's not a good sign if a girl starts drinking alcohol at that age. I recommend that we remove all forms of temptation. She can't go out drinking because she knows it's not safe for her to be alone."

"Talk to Sebastian about it. He'll take care of it in the morning. And if he asks, tell him that I order him to get rid of it all," said Ciel.

"Alrighty then," Beatrix zipped out of his room without so much as shutting the door as she left.

He sat in his bed, alone with his thoughts. A pain came across his mind. Something that he hadn't felt in a long time. Guilt, perhaps? Maybe. That was a rather strong possibility. Ever since that fateful night, his old emotions were piling up. He wasn't human anymore. He shouldn't have feelings. Yet, with each passing day when _she _was under his roof, those latent emotions came ever closer to possessing him. Tempest was bringing out his humanity again. It seemed impossible, but then again, a lot of things he'd seen were impossible.

Frustrated with himself, Ciel tossed away the covers and ran to Tempest's room. He found the door shut and the lights turned off. No matter for him. Demons didn't need electricity to see. Opening the door, he found her form snuggled underneath her blankets. She was mumbling so he assumed she wasn't fast asleep yet.

"Five more minutes, mom. I swear." He heard as he edged closer. The sound of his approaching feet didn't seem to startle her. Ciel stood at her bedside, waiting patiently for her to snap up and yell at him. When she didn't, Ciel sat on the edge within arm's reach of her face.

He pulled some of Tempest's soft hair away from her face. She looked distraught and pained, tears welling up in the corners. Her eyes were shut, well, half-lidded and she seemed conscious that someone was in the room with her.

"There's one more…thing…I want to get off my chest, Beatrix." Tempest slurred.

Ciel made no sound and sat silently.

"I wouldn't mind…kissing Ciel…if he looked a bit older."


	52. Chapter 49

The phone on the bedside buzzed into life, Tempest's hand fell on top of it lazily. Without even looking, she turned off the alarm. She lay in bed for several minutes, still awake but very groggy. Her head throbbed, pounding ruthlessly against her skull. She rubbed her eyes and groaned. Kicking the blankets away, she sat up with her legs dangling over the bed. She groaned again and flipped open the phone again. It was noon.

Tempest walked to the bathroom and by some miracle didn't run into anything. She turned on the tub's facet, plugged the drain, and went back to the bedroom for some clothes. When she returned, the tub was full. The running water was stopped and she stripped down to nothing. Dipping one toe inside to test the water, a sharp hiss escaped her lips but she carefully climbed in away. Tempest relaxed for a few minutes in the hot water thinking about nothing. The bath was therapeutic than for actual bathing. She settled after a while and let herself slip until only her face lay above the surface. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember what she did last night after she popped the top of that bottle of scotch. She vaguely remembered Beatrix walking in, but there wasn't much after that. She stopped counting how many shots, however, she knew that she said something that made her cry. She may have had an emotional outburst, but what she said exactly escaped her. And the more she tried to remember, the cloudier the memories would become.

Tempest raised her head a little. The water lapped at collar bone. She wet her face with just her hands and let them slip back under the surface. She looked at her reflection in the water, the blue of her eyes standing out like supernatural fire. For the first time, she hated her own image. Those eyes kept burning in her skull. The eyes that weren't even her own. If it weren't for these blasted eyes, her mother might be alive. She wouldn't be sitting in a bathtub in Ciel Phantomhive's house. She would be normal, blind, but normal. Her hand smacked the water, shattering the reflection for just a while. Tempest rested her neck on the back of the tub.

"Is this what I've come down to? Lounging in a demon's bathroom tub? I am pathetic." Tempest sulked.

Tempest dressed herself in a pair of jeans and casual blouse. With house slippers on her feet, she wandered around the house. Someone seemed to be home. The kitchen and all the booze would be free. The temptation was almost too much. Then guilt set in. She should have been ashamed of herself for even thinking such a thing.

She continued to wander around, getting her feel around the place. True she'd been there for almost a whole month, but between getting into auditions and rehearsals and getting her affairs in order since her apartment burned down, she never really explored her temporary home. At least, she hoped it was just temporary. With things the way they were, it would be forever before she could afford her own apartment again. Ciel's loaded pockets made things easy for her, but she wasn't raised to lean on anybody for money, besides the fact that she was still angry at him for trying to open her letter. She dreaded reading it herself. Once she pried it out of Sebastian's hands, she stuffed it in a desk drawer. Maybe she would read it later today, however if it was from that horrible man, it wasn't likely to stay out in the open for long. First word in that man's handwriting, and that thing was going to be tossed into the nearest fireplace.

She opened a door, hoping it would be interesting. Inside, Tempest found a small library with two people she didn't want to see. Sebastian stood on a ladder arranging books with Ciel in a desk chair, his eyes glued to a book. A brown folder lay beside him, though it didn't seem all that special.

"I'll be going now," Tempest turned around and began to leave when Ciel called after her.

"Wait; there is something I want to tell you."

Tempest froze in place, but still refused to look at him. "What is it?"

"I want to apologize. It is not my place to look through your mail and I will keep in mind that your letters are private and I have no right to snoop where I am not wanted. I only wanted…to find out more about you. Which is why I'm giving this to you."

Tempest slowly turned her head to find Ciel holding the same brown folder towards her. Her brain couldn't register what was so important in the folder, but whatever it was clearly meant that appearances weren't everything. She approached the desk, taking the folder, and kept her eyes were locked with his. Sebastian pulled up a chair behind her, allowing her sit and read the contents without leaving the room. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"How much of this did you read?" She asked repeatedly.

"I swear, I didn't read anything beyond the medical history. There's still a lot there."

"And how did you get this?" Tempest caught the sight of Sebastian in the corner of her eye. "Never mind."

"This isn't easy for me." Ciel reluctantly admitted, however he kept his eyes downward.

"Why did you do it?"

"It seemed to be the only way. You weren't being open. But it was wrong of me."

Tempest sat silently for a while. She began chewing her nails as she thought about what he said. If she could give him this one thing, there wouldn't be a repeat of a letter incident.

"If I do this, you have to promise that this will never come up again," she sighed.

Ciel looked up, equally confused as she had been.

"What are you talking about?"

Sebastian slipped out of the library, placing the books he was carrying on the ladder, and shut the door behind him. Not even Ciel noticed until after he was already gone. Tempest shut the folder angrily and tossed it into the trash bin near the desk.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not doing this because I _want _you to know about me. I just want to prevent anything else from happening," Tempest stood up from her chair and walked this cushioned sofa. She plopped down like it was a therapist's couch, resting head on a velvet pillow.

"Do what exactly?" Ciel was still confused.

"I'm going to tell everything about myself so you or your butler don't go poking your nose in my business. I don't want either one of you to go searching through my medical records and everything else just so you can learn my past. Got it?" Tempest draped her hands over her stomach. "This is going to feel like being twelve years old again."


	53. Chapter 50

"I suppose it would be useless to go all the way back. I should start when I was five years old, the first time my blindness became apparent…"

_I remember it was a Saturday. Mom was being suspicious and all. She never explained why she felt that way, she just seemed restless. We ended up going to the park. I had trouble seeing so I wore glasses back then, though it would only get worse over time. I got on the swings and she went to read a book on a park bench. She never left that bench and even though I couldn't see very well, I always knew where she was. She'd wave at me, just so I wouldn't be scared. I was five. _

_But after a while, my eyes started feeling weird. _

_I stopped swinging for a while. I rubbed my eyes because I thought that I got sand in them. The warm I rubbed them, the worse it got. Mom must have noticed what I was doing because she ran over. She checked my face and took off my glasses for me. _

"_Do you have something in your eyes, sweetie?" I could tell that she was really worried about me. _

"_I don't know, mommy. My eyes hurt." That's when I looked up. _

_She was standing right there in front me, yet the only thing I could see was this blob of color. My own mother…I couldn't make out my own mother's face. There's nothing scarier than not being able to see your own mother's face. _

Tempest took a deep breath and wiped her eyes with the edge of her sleeve.

_I reached out, but I had trouble finding her face. She had to help me touch her cheeks. She must have realized that I couldn't see, so she put my glasses back on. It didn't help at all, really. I still couldn't see her. I was so…so scared. It's absolutely terrifying to not be able to see your mom when you're just a small kid. _

"_Mommy?" I panicked. _

"_Can't you see me, Emilie? I'm right here, baby. I'm right here." But all I could do was cry. Nothing would make any sense after that. _

_Monday morning, she took me to an optometrist. And the news wasn't good. They took tests and when the doctor separated us, I could still here him talking to her. I was sitting outside in a little chair when he said this, "Ma'am I don't know how to tell you this, but your daughter is legally blind."_

"_How is that even possible? Her eyes are green. Don't blind people have like a…a film or something over their eyes. She can't be blind." Mom argued. _

"_She…suffers from a different kind of blindness." _

"_What other kind of blindness is there?" I never heard her so angry. It was almost as if she couldn't handle the truth. _

"_According to the test results, your daughter has a very unique and troubling problem. I've looked over these tests three times and I've even faxed a copy to another doctor across the city. They came up with the same conclusion. This is the first time I've seen this. Your daughter is so near-sighted she can't see anything at all. We've checked for stigmatisms, blood clots, everything. Other than her extreme near-sightedness, there's literally nothing wrong with her eyes." He finished explaining. _

"_Isn't there some kind of surgery to fix this?" _

"_If there was, I would tell you right now. But there's nothing out there currently for your daughter's case…"_

"_So she has to suffer with it?" _

"_There's really nothing more than I can do…"_

"_Find a way then! My daughter can't even look at me properly. I have to help her by putting her hands on my face. Why didn't someone tell me this before? Why didn't the doctors tell me she was going to be blind after she was born?"_

"_They don't test a baby's ability to see to that extent. They'll check to see if they baby is completely blind. But your daughter is unique. She technically blind, but she can see colors and shapes. They probably never suspected anything because the eye color. Do you know if this runs in the father's side of the family?" _

"_I'm not married."_

"_I wasn't asking if you were married. Do you know who the father is?" I know that must have stabbed my mom in the heart. _

"_Are you assuming that I wouldn't?" _

"_No…no, that isn't the point I was trying to make…" _

"_Never mind, I'm just going to pay the bill and then we'll leave," the next thing I know my mom grabbed my hand and we walked to the receptionist's desk. She paid in cash and we left. We never went back to that doctor again. _

Ciel didn't say anything. He handed her a tissue to dab the corner of her eyes which were welling up with tears.

"That's not the end of it, I'm assuming."

"Oh, just wait," Tempest blew her nose, "it gets better."


	54. Chapter 51

_By the age of seven, I was already enrolled in a special school for the blind. It got government funding so it was fairly cheap for my mom. She still had to get a couple of jobs to pay for things like school supplies, book, and keep a roof over our heads. My grandma tried to give Mom money, but she wouldn't take. She didn't want any money from her. She wanted to do things on her own. We had a couple of close calls, but things always turned out for the better. Occasionally, my grandparents helped around the house when she was working. I never liked being alone, however I always had the feeling that they didn't like me. Like I was some kind of mistake. I didn't have to see in order to know that at least my grandmother didn't like me. _

"…_that little girl wouldn't be blind if her mother didn't have _you know what_ before marriage. This has to be some kind of punishment…" I overheard my grandmother talking. She thought she was whispering but with my sight being so poor, my hearing became super strong. _

"_Don't be talking about that in front of the kid, she's blind not deaf, Susan…Besides, Christina's guilt is with God, not us. Don't be so judgmental and be grateful that you have beautiful granddaughter like her. It's not a punishment. Things just happen sometimes."_

"_But those eyes are so unnatural. So bright and green, not at all normal." Grandma continued. I did my best to ignore her comments. I pretended to be on the couch, using a braille book to read. But my hand didn't move along the page, I wanted to know what she was saying about me. How she actually felt about me. I knew that she resented my mom for coming home pregnant with me and no ring on her finger. Until then, I never realized how much she resented me too. _

"_Hush!"_

_Grandma never said another word about it. At least not when I was in the room. _

_For years, I lived in a giant blobby world. That's all I could see. I had trouble making friends because I could barely find their eyes. By the time I was ten, I'd hear other kids on the playgrounds in the park whispering about me. When you're a kid, words can hurt pretty badly._

"_What's wrong with her eyes? They're kind of creepy." _

"_How should I know?" _

"_Let's just go play somewhere else." _

_It happened every day and no matter how I tried, they'd always run away. Sometimes they would even make fun of me for being blind. Like it was my fault. I used the cane to walk around with because we couldn't afford to take care of a seeing-eye dog. One time, a kid yanked out of my hand and made me trip and then she laughed at me. The only person I trusted was my mom and sometimes my grandpa, but I think he had some of the sentiments other people had about me. They always assumed that I couldn't hear them, but I knew. I knew that I wasn't _normal_. At the time, I didn't understand why. Had I known then that my dad was a grim reaper maybe things wouldn't have been so bad. At least I would know it wasn't my fault. The fault belonged to my genetics. _

Tempest looked up from the sofa. She propped her head against her hand, which was supported by her elbow on the sofa's arm. She looked at him for a reaction. He seemed calm and composed, though she thought she heard him inhale sharply, as if something in her life's story bothered him. Now he remained almost perfectly still, like nothing happened. She noticed he kept a vice grip on a poor, defenseless pencil. It looked like it was on the verge of breaking in half in his seemingly small hands, the wood bending underneath his grip.

"Do you want me to go on? Because it gets a lot nastier than what I've already told you."

"It doesn't bother me," he said it with a calm voice, but Tempest had excellent hearing. She could hear the strain in his throat. He was holding something back.

"Just don't say I didn't warn you…"

_At the age of twelve, I learned fast how to deal with my disability. My mom was always there to be an emotional support whenever I needed it. Not once did she let anybody pick on me because I was blind or because I looked odd. She was always there. Except this one time…when she was working late into the night and my…uncle had to look after me because my grandparents were out of town. _

Tempest breathed in and out. This was the first time she'd talked about her abuse. It had been ten years and for the longest time she wanted to forget it ever happened. She already opened the flood gates. No use in trying to shut them now. She swallowed hard and started again.

_I know it was October because my mom made jack-o-lanterns for the porch. She let me pull the pumpkin guts out. She knew that I wanted to help even though I couldn't see. She was the best mom ever and I don't blame her for not being there to stop him. _

_I was reading a book when he sat next to me. At first I thought nothing of it. Then he touched my cheek. I pushed away. _

"_Just this once." He kept mumbling, though I think it was mostly to himself. _

_He pushed me to the floor and…put his hand down my skirt. I tried to kick him away and scream. All that did was piss off. He covered my mouth with his hand and told me that if I bit him, he'd hurt me even more. He managed to get me out of my underwear. Then he was kissing me and…inside me._

Tempest gagged and she knew she was visibly shaking. Tears couldn't be stopped. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling. She knew that her abuse wasn't her fault. No kid of any age should be put through that. Yet, she couldn't look at Ciel in the face. She didn't want him see her this way. Not this vulnerable or how much pain she was in. Tempest needed to be strong on her own. This was how she was going to do it. She wouldn't look at him for comfort. She was going to pull herself together on her own.

_Nobody believed me. Not Grandma, not the police. I was blind. I couldn't have seen my attacker. Never mind that he was the only one there. Never mind that I knew what his voice sounded like or that I knew what he smelled like. Nobody but Mom believed. _

_Uncle Mark was thrown in jail for assaulting another girl. This time, he was sent away for a long time. I never got justice no matter how hard my mom told the police that he was the one. The relationship between my grandma and my mom was severed completely. They never reconciled, even on Grandma's death bed. She died later that year in December. Grandpa lives upstate now, but I haven't heard from him in a long time. He might be dead for all I know. _

Tempest sighed._ "_I went to therapy for the next year and a half. I'm at the point where I can move past it, though I cannot forgive him. It's one thing if it's a complete stranger. When it's your own blood, there's no forgiveness. No matter how much they plead. You don't do that to your kin, especially to a kid."

_By the time I was 14, things went back to normalcy, for the most part. I continued to go to school. Sometimes my mom would spring tickets for theater shows for my birthdays and Christmas. Always in the farthest rows just so I'd be able to make out what was happening on the stage. Granted, I still couldn't see it completely, but it was better than nothing at all. I lost myself in the world of theater and wished to be different. The actors could be anything they wanted to be and nobody would make fun of them. Plays became live action books for me. Movies were never appealing to me. They're taped ahead of time. It's completely different when you can hear raw emotions poured out before you by live actors. It's absolutely magical. _

_When I was fifteen, Damon showed up for the first time. _


	55. Chapter 52

_I went to get the mail, not knowing that I was being followed. Before I got to the door, something tripped me. My cane slipped out of my hand and I fell. I fumbled around for the packages and my cane, but then I saw a pair of black shoes. My eyes looked up and saw this black, boxy shape with a white circle for a face. I should have known then that he was up to no good. He smelled like dead roses and ash. I tried to crawl away from him, but he caught my hand. _

_I was terrified. I couldn't see, therefore I couldn't fight back. He laughed. _

"_You're blind, aren't you?" His voice was so full of darkness and evil it made my skin crawl. _

"_Y-yes." _

"_You're very brave for walking alone by yourself…"_

"_I was just getting the mail," I tried to pull away, but his grip was so strong. _

"_I can help you see." I became frozen. I wanted more than anything to be able to see. It sounded too good to be true. _

"_I can give you a new pair of eyes. I don't normally make this kind of deal, but you have something that I've been looking for a _very_ long time. True, you've got pretty features. But I've been looking for something more…substantial, shall we say. I'm not shallow. I want somebody that's like a full bodied wine. A pretty bottle doesn't always mean that the wine is any good."_

"_I'm fifteen."_

"_Oh," he seemed surprised by my age, "I would have guessed you were at least 18. You look older than you are. That what makes you special I guess. You have this irresistible spirit. Like dark chocolate. Deep, rich, sweet yet bitter. It's like I've been caught its orbit like the gravitational field around a planet. I've been sucked in. You have something to share with the world. I know it. You have just the tiniest spark of a black flame glowing inside of you. It's small like an ember. But with my help, that ember will turn into a raging wildfire that engulfs the world. I want to be the one that brings that fire to its full glory." _

_I somehow managed to get free of him. I tried to run from him, but he caught me around the waist. He whispered into my ear, "I've taken a liking to you, darling. And once I get attached, I'm very hard to get rid of. Your desperation to see is what drew me here, but it's you that I want to keep. I want to have your spirit and body trapped inside my cage, to my pet and sweet song bird. This isn't the last that you will see of me."_

_He disappeared by the time my mom found me in the hallway. She asked me what happened, but I couldn't tell her. I wasn't sure for myself what had happened. All I knew was that I was scared. Who wouldn't be? I never told her. Not for another year, she never knew about his existence._

"One day in April, she took out of school. Said there was an emergency with grandpa. We played hooky, spent the whole day together, did whatever I wanted. I never suspected anything…" Tempest's voice trailed off.

"Suspected what?" Ciel pulled his chair up to the sofa so that he was near her head.

"That she was going to die. At sunset, we went to Coney Island, got to the Farris wheel, and she asked the operator to…stop when we were at the very top. She showed me the sunset and for the first time, I could really see it. From far away, I was able to see this beautiful sunset, thanks to my mom. Then she turned to me and said, 'No matter what storm you weather, I will be there with you. Always.' The last thing she said to me was 'I love you.' And then I went to bed."

_The obnoxious, glaring beep of her alarm stirred Emilie's peaceful sleep. She pressed the off button with practiced reflexes like she did every morning. She got to the point where she could do simple things without help. Even blind, she could press a simple button. She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes and stretching the sore muscles. Her eyes turned to the alarm clock which read 6 o'clock. _

_Emilie looked again to double check. She saw the red numbers clearly. She blinked, rubbed her eyes again, and opened them once more. The colors and objects around her were so clear now. Placing her thumb and index finger close together, Emilie gave herself a good pinch on the back of her hand. The undeniable sting didn't make her wake up. She was already wide awake. This was not dream. For the first time in sixteen years, she could see. She could see things normal people could. She'd never have to use a cane or read braille ever again. _

_The first thing she did was jump up and run to her mother's bedroom past the kitchen, hollering at the top of her lungs with joy._

"_Mom! Mom! You won't believe this! I can see!" Emilie threw open the door, to find the room drawn in darkness. The thick shades were pulled across the windows, throwing everything into shadows. _

"_Mom?" When her mother didn't respond, Emilie flipped on the lights. _

_She found her sitting in the old rocking chair, eyes closed, and her skin set in an unnatural pallor. Emilie knew her mom was pale, but now her skin looked positively deathly. _

"_Mom?" Fear set in her heart. Her mom wasn't responding and if she didn't wake up when Emilie screamed a few minutes ago, she wasn't going to wake up now. _

_Emilie approached carefully. As she drew closer, she didn't see her mom's chest rise and fall as it would if she were breathing. Emilie couldn't control the tears starting to stream down her cheeks. This was some sick joke for whoever controlled the universe. _

"_Mom? Please, wake up. This isn't funny…" Emilie felt her mom's hand and jumped back immediately. Her mother's warm turned icy cold. Panicked, she checked the pulse points, but there was nothing. No heartbeat. _

_Emilie rested her head in her mother's lap for the last time. _

"_Not fair. It's not fair," she chanted. _

"She made a deal with Damon without telling you," Ciel concluded.

Tempest turned her head, trying not to cry in front of Ciel anymore than she already had.

"If I knew, she knew I would tell that I would rather be blind than have her die. She kept it secret. Damon preyed on her weakness and he killed her. And every day I have live with it. My mother is dead and there wasn't a damn thing I could've done to stop it…"

"To demons, every soul is one human's mother, father, brother, son, sister, daughter, or friend. Sometimes it is necessary to kill in order to survive. Fortunately, I have some humanity in me still and I've never taken someone's soul that didn't deserve it. Damon chose the wrong woman. He preyed on someone far weaker than himself. A Cosmian contract doesn't always require a third party's soul to replace body parts. If he made the contract with you, he could have taken your soul when it came time for you to die. I doubt he told your mother that."

Tempest sat up and dried her tears. "So he killed her on purpose? What for?"

"Most likely to get you alone. It would have been strategically easier for him to get closer without your mother around."

Tempest swung her legs over the sofa. She sat still for a good several minutes, taking it all in. One, she practically gave him her biography. Two, Damon didn't choose her by accident and he didn't kill her mother just for the sake of her soul. He planned to kill her in order to get his hands on Tempest. Her simple hatred for him turned into a blinding rage. He did it all on purpose. He preyed on her mother's weaknesses and got rid of her because she would have stood in the way. Her mother died not knowing there were other choices. Damon took her mother away.

"Are you…alright?" Ciel's voice brought her out of the pit of her despair.

"I want you to help me with something."

"Name it."

"I want to find him and kill him."

"I thought you said you never wanted to kill again."

"This is different," Tempest rose suddenly and went to the doorway. She leaned against the panel. "He killed my mom on purpose to get to me. He knew that there was another way and he still killed her. I want revenge."

"Do you trust me, then? It takes a demon to know a demon, but your mother was killed by one. Can you trust me enough to help? Or do you believe that I'm not entirely evil like him?" Ciel had to ask.

Tempest gave him a half smile, though a bit reluctant to do so. It wasn't so much as a happy smile, but the type of bitter-sweet smile you give someone else when you're feeling low and you don't want anyone else to know.

"I guess I do. And you're right, it takes a demon to know a demon. I have no choice. But if Sebastian ever lays a grubby little finger on my mail again, or you for that matter, Damon isn't the only one who's going to feel my wrath," she added with a small chuckle.

"I promise that there won't be any repeats, Ciel dragged his chair back behind his desk and went back to his book.

"One more thing," Tempest turned again to leave. "I had a very strange dream last night where I told a short-haired girl a secret before I blacked out. Did I say anything when I was drunk that you may have…uh…got wind of by any chance?" She did her best to hide the red in cheeks.

She wasn't entirely sure she dreamed it or not. She knew that she didn't get to bed on her own, not after her emotional outburst, which still remained fuzzy with limited details. Tempest thought, though she wasn't sure on the matter, that something slipped out that wasn't meant to be heard. Remarkably, Tempest remembered what it was, and a few other details, though it was still fairly early in the day. She had plenty of time to remember what she said and did the night before. What she didn't know was if anyone else heard anything out of the ordinary fall from her drunken lips?

"I was in bed. I probably didn't hear anything," he lied very carefully.

Tempest shrugged and left without another word. Ciel leaned back in his chair and heaved a huge sigh of relief. She didn't remember that she didn't dream it. More importantly, she thought the figure was a girl. At least for now, he was safe.

* * *

By the way, I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I do have a new Black Butler fanfiction. It's different from this one, however I hope you can take the time to read that too, if you don't mind.


	56. Chapter 53

Tempest wandered into the backyard for fresh air only to be ambushed by a roaming cloud of cigarette smoke.

"There you are, luv. How are you this morning?" Beatrix removed her cigarette and held it betwixt her fingers.

"I could use some coffee and the number for a good therapist, but other than that…"

"Sit," Beatrix patted the lawn chair beside her.

Tempest plopped down, sighing.

"Want to talk about it?" Beatrix snuffed out her cigarette and smashed it into the flower pot with a growing ficus.

"Talk about what?"

"Your problem…"

"My problem?"

Beatrix eyed her suspiciously from the top of her glasses.

"Right," Tempest looked away, rightfully abashed.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. You're not the only person in the world who has addiction problems. First step is to admit that you have a problem. And I want to know how you started. I kind of figured that it started with something bad. You only drink when things take a turn for the worse."

Tempest fiddled with her thumbs for a while. She chewed her lower lip, trying to avoid even looking a Beatrix.

"Come on. Girl talk isn't exactly my thing, but for you, I'll give a try."

"Why would you want to talk to me? Nobody's ever wanted to talk to me." Tempest pulled her legs up so her chin rested on her knees.

"You were the weird kid who ate lunch by herself, weren't you?"

"How would you know?" Tempest mumbled.

"Because I was one of them. Do you think I woke up a few years ago and thought, 'Hey, I should become a psycho-billy freak show.'?"

Tempest laughed a little, but she didn't look her way.

"You and I aren't that different. Believe me, I was the kind of girl nobody wanted to talk to too. Well, I did it on purpose. Nevertheless, I want to be your friend, and you could use one. Especially now. Unless you want to talk about your feelings with the little master and butler boy inside," Beatrix gestured with her thumb towards the house.

"No, not really." Tempest stretched out her legs and reclined easily into the lawn chair. "I remember it like it was yesterday. I woke up one morning and I could see. Like it was a miracle. I couldn't believe it myself. Then I found my mom, dead in her bedroom. I realized that it wasn't a miracle. It was the universe's sick joke. I could finally see my mom's face for the first time so clearly, so perfectly, only to bury her. She made a deal with a demon to replace my eyes in exchange for her soul. I was sent to a foster home. They took care of me, but only to the extent of paying for school. I eventually got my license and a job to pay for my own gas. They made sure I got good grades and celebrated my birthday. I could begin to make my dreams a reality. Nothing could hold me back. But it all felt empty. I could see, but my mom wasn't going to be there. It meant nothing if she wasn't there."

"How'd you get over it?"

"I snuck out during the first seven months after my mom's death. I wandered around the city, not really looking for anything in particular, except for something to fill the void. I just so happened to stop in front of liquor store. I didn't think about drinking. I thought I wasn't going to go down that road. I'll admit, though, I was tempted. I sat down at a park bench until about two in morning. I started walking back, when I walked in front of the same store. The second time was the hardest. Then I figured, 'What the hell? It's better than feeling nothing.' I went behind the store. I must have stood there out in the cold for at least an hour before somebody came up to me. I bribed a guy with about 25 bucks to buy me some alcohol. Nothing fancy. He didn't ask and gave me what I wanted. I didn't drink it right away. I hid it. Lucky for me, they never bothered to look into my room because I was such a goody two shoes."

"I see." Tempest looked over at Beatrix. To her surprise the older woman was listening, not just hearing. Beatrix looked at her like she could sympathize with her. And she was.

"There's a vintage clothing store in Midtown. Do you…want to check it?"

"Right now?"

Tempest shrugged. "Why not?"

Beatrix practically jumped up out of the lawn chair. "We are going to be _very_ good friends, you and I."


	57. Chapter 54

Sebastian spotted Beatrix and Tempest heading out of door, smiling. Beatrix turned to him, dangling her car keys in front of her face.

"We're going out for a while. Don't wait up."

"And where are you going exactly? The young master would appreciate it if you didn't go gallivanting across the city by yourselves." He pointed out.

Beatrix waved him off. "We're grown women. Besides, I think I can manage. If we run in trouble, it's not like I'm some sort damsel in distress who can't take of herself."

"Ahem?" Tempest cleared her throat.

"No offence. We'll be back by dinner." The two women vanished behind the front door.

Sebastian marched back to the library, a plan formulating in his head.

"Young master, Miss Bathory has taken Miss Tempest for an afternoon outing. She didn't say where they were going, but promised to be back by dinner." The young master didn't even lift his head from his book.

"She could use some time out of the house, I suppose," Ciel referred to Tempest.

"Yes, sir," Sebastian paused for a minute before continuing. "You seem to have become very fond of Miss Tempest, haven't you, sir?"

Ciel said nothing.

"Your obsession has actually turned into what one can only describe as 'affection,' possibly…"

"If there's something you want to say, say it. I'm not getting any younger," Ciel slammed shut his book and wheeled his chair around.

"Yes, of course, sir. Then, you wouldn't mind if I told you that there might be a resolution to your _situation._" Sebastian coyly smiled.

Ciel swiveled the chair back half way around. His way of telling the butler to go on.

"While a contract would be necessary for you to change your form in order to suit the needs of the contracted, there are plenty of ways to change yourself. Demons who spend a lot of their time on this plane need to disguise themselves between contracts. I just so happen to know someone who may be able to help. And she conveniently resides in New York."

"Why didn't you bring this up sooner?" Ciel glared at him.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted help or not. That, and she might not being so willing to help. She and I had a _discrepancy_ some years ago. And women, especially her kind, tend to hold grudges."

"Is she a demon?"

"No, sir. She is a rare breed within the witch community…"

Ciel turned to him completely, brows furrowed in confusion. "You're also telling me that witches, of all things, exist?"

"Pardon my boldness, sir, but you are contracted to a demon for all eternity and you were once human and now you're a demon. You have two grim reapers living in your household. We have fought against a hell hound, a hermaphrodite angel, other grim reapers, and who knows what else, and you're questioning the existence of witches?"

Ciel dismissed his previous comment. "Carry on."

"As I was saying, sir, she's a rare breed. She's known as a grey witch. She can help us, if we can give her something in return."

"Like what?"

"That's just it. She will make the price. She will determine what she wants in exchange."

"Then what are you standing there for? Get the car ready," Ciel stood up and grabbed his coat from the rack by the door.

* * *

"_This _is where your famous witch lives?" Ciel questioned the sanity of his butler as he stared across the street from a flower shop.

"I need you to trust me, sir. Looks are deceiving. Besides, Lillian Ambrosine is an expert in all things flora and fauna. It only seemed natural for her to open a flower shop." Sebastian gestured for Ciel to cross the street before him.

A tiny bell chimed above their heads as they entered. A short woman with auburn colored hair her back turned to them as she was occupied with something. She must have heard them enter because she quickly turned on her heels and smiled. Only, her smile didn't last long at all. The moment her light green eyes landed on Sebastian, her mouth formed a sharp frown. Her white hand reached for something in the counter.

"Bon jour, _Gideon_. It's been a long time, hasn't it?" She sneered.

"Sebastian, what is she talking about?"

Lillian the witch whipped out a sharp-looking dagger hidden in her counter. She leaned over so she looked Ciel in the eye. Sebastian tried to be a gentleman and ignore the fact the Lillian's _assets_ were practically pressed against the glass counter most inappropriately. Whether or not she was doing it on purpose, it was best not to ask.

"This…thing over here, you know as Sebastian. I know him as Gideon. Don't think I forgot what you did to me!" She pointed her dagger towards Sebastian. Lillian sprang from behind her counter and poked the butler squarely in the chest with the tip of the blade. "You callous, arrogant Don Juan! You left me on the way to the guillotine! I had to waste my magic in making a clone! You swine! You rascal! You under-handed, dirty, rotten, demon-devil conceived in the bleakest womb!"

Everything else after that neither of them could make out. After insulting Sebastian in English, Lillian spouted off many French ones, some in a Creole dialect which they definitely didn't understand.

"Mademoiselle, could you please let me speak!" Ciel suddenly raised his voice.

Lillian didn't back down from Sebastian. She held the dagger close to his chest, but turned her head towards Ciel.

"Whatever your grudge is against my butler, you can take your revenge on him later. For now, I am in need of your service."

"And what does a little boy want with my services. Can't wait to hit puberty?" She sneered again.

"Yes."

Lillian lowered her dagger only slightly. "I beg your pardon?"

Sebastian easily moved the dagger away from his torso with just his finger. "What my master means to say is that there is someone very special to him, but he cannot convince her to return any affection so long as he looks like _this_. She appears to be about ten years his senior."

"And why would I help either one of you? You," she glared at Sebastian, "abandoned me and I don't know anything about your friend. For the last two hundred years, I've avoided doing work for demons because of you. What can you offer me that would make me change my mind?"

"I'll give you a blank check." Ciel suggested. The offer seemed a bit irrational from his point of view, however this witch was his only chance. Tempest would never agree to make a contract with him.

Lillian threw her head back and laughed. "Silly little man, and I do mean little, that's not how it works. The price is never money. It's whatever I deem of equal value. Even if I wanted to help you, there is but one thing that I consider equal value to helping you."

"And what's that."

Lillian frowned and lowered her dagger altogether. She went behind the counter again, this time picking up a framed photograph. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away before they could see it. She couldn't show weakness in front of them. Lillian handed Sebastian a photo of herself and her adopted son, Jacobi.

"The boy is my son. He was taken from me a few months ago because of mistaken identity. He was wandering where he shouldn't have been and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. He is being held at the Bellevue Hospital. I would have gotten him out myself except I cannot find a way. If I expose my nature to anybody, I will single-handedly render to pieces the veil between human life and supernatural creatures. I want nothing more to bring him home, but I…" Lillian covered her mouth to stifle her own sobs.

"I can get him out for you." Ciel interrupted her.

Lillian raised her head, eyes red with tears. "Impossible. You'd get caught too. Just who do you think you are?" She asked bitterly.

"Ciel Phantomhive. And if getting your son back to you is what you would take as payment, then I'll do it." He went for the door without another word.

The skin in Lillian's face went white. "Then the rumors are true. You're the human who was turned into a demon, aren't you? You do exist."

Ciel merely smirked at her reaction. "You'll have your son back in your arms by the end of the week. When he's safe, you can work on a potion to make me older. Do we have an accord?"

"Oui, Monsieur Phantomhive," she suddenly was taken aback by the small demon. Humans didn't usually turn into demons. When they tried, most ended up dead. Counting him, there were only two of them in the entire world. And the other was pretty powerful. She couldn't imagine what Ciel was capable of. Despite his appearance, Lillian could see something indescribable in his eyes. Something deadly serious. He was not someone to contend with. For now, she'd do as he asked, though she would play her cards carefully.


	58. Chapter 55

"I'm getting hungry," said Tempest as they packed their goods into the back seat of Beatrix's car.

"I already told Sebastian we would be back by dinner." The grim reaper shut the door and walked around the front.

Tempest climbed into the passenger seat beside her, sighing. "Yeah. But I'm really not comfortable eating all that fancy food. What I wouldn't give for a cheeseburger."

Beatrix tapped her slime-green fingernail against her chin. "Then I suppose we can get something to eat. I'm sure he wouldn't mind." She started the engine.

"There's a good burger joint around the corner. They have the best strawberry milkshakes," Tempest point towards the end of the street.

They each strapped themselves in, even though the drive would take a whole five seconds. Beatrix had difficulty finding a space. The Cadillac took more space than the parking lot offered. They drove around for a few minutes before cramming the vehicle between another car and a dirty, green dumpster. At first, Beatrix hesitated. She insisted on somewhere else, but no other spots were available. She stepped out, pouting, and grimaced at the ugly dumpster sitting next to her precious car.

"Are you coming?" Tempest's voice brought Beatrix back to earth. She still sneered at the dumpster; however there was nothing she could do about the eye-sore.

A bell chimed over head as they entered the 50's styled diner. A blonde waitress stepped up to a fake wood podium after grabbing a couple of laminated menus. She raised her head, smiled, and asked, "How many?"

"Two, please. Booth." Tempest answered quickly. She ignored her growling stomach. Mentally, she slapped herself in the back of her head for not eating breakfast.

The waitress led them to a red and white vinyl booth with a rickety looking tabletop. She placed the menus in front of them and took out a pen and a pad of paper. The pen clicked in her hand as she waited to take their drink orders.

"Water."

"I'll have a Sprite, if you please," Beatrix ordered.

"Alrighty, I'll be back with your drinks." The waitress's vintage uniform twirled in the air as she spun around towards the kitchen, which displayed a good view of the cook, a burly man flipping patties through the cut-out window in the tiled wall.

Beatrix glanced over the menu then set it aside. She looked at Tempest who still seemed preoccupied with deciding with what she wanted to eat. But the girl seemed more preoccupied than just deciding what to have for a late lunch. Something bugged her, in turn was bugging Beatrix. Her gut feeling told her to ask Tempest what was wrong.

"You seem a bit off, girly. Something on your mind?" The waitress returned with their drinks.

Tempest handed her the menu without even looking. "Double cheeseburger. French fries on the side."

This made Beatrix even more suspicious. A girl of Tempest's size wouldn't order food like that unless they were eating their feelings. She had no scientific evidence to prove it, but Beatrix certainly knew that something was wrong with Tempest.

"Uh, I'll have the bacon burger, please."

The waitress jotted down everything with speed and took the menus. She bustled away. Beatrix waited for her to have completely disappeared towards another table. Out of ear shot. She leaned over the table and waved her hand in front of Tempest's face. The other woman barely registered the other's hand in her face until after a few minutes. She looked up, her eyes glazed over.

"What's wrong with you? You're acting very weird and not in a good way. You can tell me." Beatrix continued where the waitress made her stop.

Tempest shook her head a little. "I just have this weird feeling that we're being watched."

"Being watched," Beatrix asked, now worried and confused, "Watched by whom?"

"I don't know," Tempest shrugged her shoulders, "I just have this feeling that somebody's watching us. It started when we got out of the store. I can't shake it."

Beatrix tried to smile and patted her on the shoulder.

"Don't worry 'bout it, girly. Nothings gonna lay a hand on even a single strand from your pretty little head while I'm around."

Tempest smiled. "Thanks."

Tempest still couldn't shake that creeping feeling despite Beatrix's comforting words. There wasn't a way around it. She could definitely feel a pair of eyes boring into her. They were always on her. It made her skin crawl. The waitress returned ten minutes later. Tempest ate silently, though she pretended to be enjoying herself. Her cheeseburger would taste a lot better if she wasn't worried about whatever or whoever was spying on them. Tempest only ate for nourishment and she didn't want it to go to waste. By the end, she was nauseous. A growing cloud formed over the city. She shivered as a low clap of thunder rolled overhead. Rain soon pitter-patted against the windows. They raced to the parking lot and stood just a few feet away from the safety within, when all of sudden Tempest stopped short.

Beatrix pulled her coat of her own head to shield herself from the rain. Tempest just stood there, eyes glued to a shadowy figure leaning against the dumpster. The figure belonged to a woman. Not much of a threat there. However, Tempest must have sensed something wrong with this stranger. She stood frozen in the pouring rain. Despite Beatrix's attempts to snap the girl out of it, her mind was already lost. Her blue eyes were overthrown by fear and confusion, pupils dilated.

"Tempest! Snap out of it!" Beatrix shook her shoulders. Still, Tempest remained frozen.

"Perhaps she sees the family resemblance," Beatrix turned a wary eye towards the figure who was stepping out into the light of a street lamp.

The woman's dark hair and eyes matched perfectly, though her eyes produced a fear-inspiring sensation that made even Beatrix shiver slightly. She had a slightly pale olive-tone to her skin, emphasized by the black clothing she wore. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she made her way closer. Tempest took a step back.

"So you're the little lady who had my brother so obsessed. I must say, I'm not exactly impressed. Your blue eyes and black hair certainly make you look exotic, but you're far too skinny. And your breasts aren't that big, either. You practically flat chested."

"And just who do you think you are, Cruella? Why don't you pick on somebody your own size," Beatrix's shovel appeared in her hand almost magically. She stood between Tempest and the demoness.

The woman gave her a deep bow, and smirking, she answered, "My name is Alessandra. She should know my brother, Damon. He stalked her for what? Four years."

"Five years," Tempest timidly answered.

"You should thank me though," Alessandra drew closer. Her eyes a malicious shade of red now. "I took care of him for you."

"Took care of him?" Tempest took a shaky step forward, but Beatrix stopped her.

"He's dead," she raised both hands in the air, "by my hands. You should be grateful. One less annoyance."

"You killed your own brother," Beatrix growled, "That's low, even for a demon."

Alessandra lowered them, sighing. "I wanted something. He was in my way. I got rid of him. It's in my nature. My family is what happens when demons gather together for the common evil. You want to know why Greece is in such bad shape. That would be _our _handy work. We're just starting off here in America, in the most major cities first, then spread chaos around like a plague. Damon became so obsessed he never saw the big picture. _You _are a very valuable pawn, my dear."

Alessandra's dark, icy eyes made a bee-line for Tempest. She stood still, grinning like a mad hatter.

"One call to the American dispatch and they'll be handing over souls like a soup kitchen. Let's not forget your daddy-dearest. I'll bet he'd be more than willing than to hand over some from Europe. There hasn't been a human-death god relationship…ever, has there?" She cast a glance towards Beatrix.

"None that I know of." Beatrix gripped her shovel with one hand. Her other hand was stuffed in her pocket for some strange reason.

"Such a delicate balance between life and death. It's seems to be a supernatural oxymoron for a death god to have children by a mere mortal. Nobody knows what she's capable of. Can she even bleed? I know she can use a death scythe, but what else is there? You can't say that you're the least bit curious?" She mused. Alessandra almost skipped through the rain, skillfully in her black stiletto shoes.

"Not really," Beatrix held out her shovel.

"You must either be very confident in your fighting skills or you're injured," Alessandra brought attention to Beatrix's hand in her coat pocket.

Now, it was Beatrix turn to smile broadly. She slowly drew her hand out, producing a shiny red cell phone. The screen nearly glowed against her face as she held it up for the demoness to see.

"Message sent," the robotic automated voice reported.

"Oh, no, no. Just waiting for the cavalry to arrive."

"Cavalry…" Was the last word that fell from her mouth before a black blur knocked her in the stomach, sending her backwards into the decrepit brick wall behind her. Dust mingled with the falling autumn rain and when it settled, Alessandra got to her feet once more. She peered through the rain, snarling and enraged.

"You!" She gritted through her sharpening teeth as Sebastian's tall form appeared besides Ciel's shorter one.


	59. Chapter 56

Alessandra brushed the dust off her pants, though it didn't help that she stood out in the middle of the rain. Her red eyes glared at them, the four of them, each posing a possible threat. Well, three of them at least. Tempest cowered behind the grim reaper. This only made Alessandra hate her all the more. Her father was _the _Undertaker, famous, powerful. Yet his daughter was hiding behind someone else. She didn't even summon her reaping tool.

"Do you know what you're doing? Do you realize what she's worth," Alessandra drew her attention to her demonic brothers.

"And what do you intend to do with her?" Asked Ciel, his body rigid. The air was thick around him. Stagnant energy swarmed around him, suppressed only by his willpower. Ciel kept a calm composure.

Alessandra gave him an evil smirk. "I'm going to hold her hostage until the American grim reaper dispatch gives him all the souls I could ever want. Do you want a part of it? I don't usually share, but I can make an exception if you simply hand her over."

"I'm not interested." He calmly replied.

"Is that how you honestly feel?" Alessandra growled. She stretched her fingers and readied herself for an attack.

"Yes." Ciel reached for his eye patch, pulling it off with ease. The contract seal glowed with a magenta hue. "Sebastian, I order you to destroy her and make sure that she never lays a hand on Tempest."

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian peeled off his gloves with his teeth.

"Bring it then!" Alessandra yelled at the top of her lungs as she sprinted for the butler in question.

Sebastian was unaffected by the charging demoness. When she reached an arm's length away, he easily punched her in the gut and tossed her like a rag doll across the parking lot. Alessandra landed with a sickening thud against the trunk of a certain someone's car.

"You bastard! You did that on purpose!" Beatrix screamed. Her shovel fell to her feet and hands curled in her hair.

Alessandra pulled herself up again. The imprint of her body dented the trunk. The metal sunk in deep, almost to the very floor of the car. She pulled herself up with the sound of metal crunching, glass hitting the concrete, and Beatrix screeching like a banshee.

"My baby! My precious baby!" Her hands nearly ripped out her hair. Actual tears were bubbling in the corner of her eyes.

"You'll have to forgive me, Miss Bathory. But there was no other way." Sebastian walked towards the weakened demoness.

"Bullshit! You did that on purpose!"

Sebastian gave Beatrix a smirk from behind his shoulder. "Perhaps or perhaps not. Either way, it'll teach you to show some respect for my position and my master."

"You cheeky bastard! Tempest back me up here," Beatrix turned to Tempest, who had vanished. At first, Beatrix looked around. After a few minutes, the realization hit her that she had disappeared, again.

"Dammit. Not again." The next thing she did was spout off every kind of indecency. "She's missing again!"

Ciel overheard Beatrix's lamentations, between the long strings of foul words, and turned in every direction in order to find Tempest. A blur skidded across the parking lot. Alessandra was busy defending herself from Sebastian's well-placed attacks to see it hide behind the dumpster. Something silver flashed in the lamp light, something long and very sharp. Ciel could deftly hear the sound of raindrops falling on what sounded like metal. He did his best to not grin. There was only one person he could think of who could have been the stranger hiding in the shadows.

Tempest looked around. Ciel had just ordered Sebastian to destroy Alessandra, Damon's supposed sister. And here she was, standing behind somebody else for protection. A feeling of weakness washed over her. She said that she wanted to be brave and not just act it. She wanted to be something other than an actress. She wanted to be a person who could stand on her own two feet. How could she do that if she didn't stand up for herself? How could she let others do things for her? That wasn't how she was raised. Her mother didn't rely on other people for help, and neither would she.

She waited behind Beatrix for a while, watching as the grim reaper throw her hissy fit over the damaged car. Ciel had his back turned from them and the other two demons were busy brawling. If she wanted to prove to them and to herself that she could fight, this opportunity was golden. Tempest quickly and quietly snuck away, dashing to the other side of the parking lot. She got behind the dumpster, hidden safely in its large shadow before anyone noticed. Now, came the difficult part.

_Okay. How do I do this? Do I just think about it or does it just appear in my hands when I need it?_ Tempest thought as she tried to figure out how to get her hands on her sword. Beatrix summoned her shovel so easily. It looked so easy, yet it was undoubtedly harder than it looked. They never started her training. She had been so preoccupied with getting her life back together that she completely forgot.

"Alright. Maybe if I just concentrate." Tempest shut her eyes and visualized her sword in her hands. She kept that image in head as long as possible until she felt a weight suddenly fall into her hands. Tempest peered open one eye, then the other when she found her sword resting in her open palms.

She stood up, shaking with nervous jitters. Bile rose to her throat at the memory of killing a man. Tempest swallowed hard and pushed her old feelings aside. Bracing herself against the dumpster, she peered over towards Alessandra. Beatrix discovered her disappearance. Ciel was alerted instantly, but with his superior senses, he found her quickly. Tempest unsheathed her sword, showing off the blade in order that Ciel might know it was her. She saw him give her a short nod.

Tempest hid back around the dumpster. She inhaled sharply and then blew out with an exasperated sigh. Mustering up what courage she had, Tempest sprung from her hiding place and headed for Alessandra who had her back turned. Both brawling demons were bloody and beaten. Exchanging blows seemed to be all that they were capable of doing at the moment. Each seemed to be waiting to deal a death blow. Fortunately for Sebastian, he had Tempest on his side. When he had Alessandra good and distracted, Tempest carefully snuck up behind her. Before the demoness could fully register her presence, the blade of the sword pierced through her left shoulder.

Alessandra didn't scream or cry. She simply observed her latest wound with the minor annoyance of someone who just lost a button from their coat. She turned a red eye towards Tempest, bitterly grinning.

"So you have some back bone after all?" She had just enough energy left to deliver a heel kick to Tempest's chest.

The sword sliced clean through Alessandra's shoulder blade. Still, the demoness made no attempt to show pain. She grabbed her wounded shoulder, the blood practically invisible on top of her black clothing. In an instant, her legs pushed her off the ground and she soared above them for only a few moments before landing on the diner's rooftop. She sneered at the small crowd gathered underneath her, particularly at Tempest.

"This isn't the last you've seen of me," she spoke loud and clear for all of them to hear. In flash, she disappeared.

A clatter brought everyone to Tempest once more, who was shaking like a leaf. Her sword fell from her hands, however she looked positively ill. Ciel reached up and touched her shoulder.

"I'm fine," she choked, "I just need to…" Her hand clamped over her mouth and she went for the dumpster.

Sebastian picked up the sword off the ground and handed it to Ciel. Beatrix didn't immediately go to Tempest's aid. Rather, she scrambled to her damaged car, getting on her knees and professing words of apology to the inanimate object like it was a child who had been smacked across the face by accident.

"Mummy's going to make it all better, sweetie." She wailed as she hugged the car in the pouring rain, not caring who saw.

Ciel held Tempest's hair away from her face as she threw up into the open dumpster. Once her stomach was emptied, she raised her head very slowly, spat into the dumpster, and wiped away whatever was left on her sleeve. He helped easer her down.

"Baby steps, Tempest, baby steps." She muttered to herself.


	60. Chapter 57

"Let's try that again. Focus on my hand and punch like you mean it."

Tempest wiped sweat from her forehead. She glared at the grim reaper in front of her. In a pair of sweat pants and a tank top, she stood in the middle of living room, made into a temporary gym. Furniture was moved out of the way, mainly to protect Tempest. Not surprisingly, Beatrix was incredibly strong.

"How is _this _supposed to make me a better grim reaper?" Tempest seethed.

"It's not supposed to help you become a grim reaper. Trust me, you don't want to be a death god. Worst job ever in existence. I'm training you to be able to defend yourself. Unless you want to continue playing the perpetual damsel in distress." The grim reaper chuckled. Tempest straightened herself up, anger building up.

"Come on, girly," Beatrix continued to bully the younger woman. "Punch me like you mean it."

"Fine!" Tempest immediately charged forward, fist raised.

In a flash, Beatrix blocked it as easily as it was to catch a slow moving snail. Tempest wasn't moving slow at all, as a matter fact. The older woman knew more about fighting than anyone expected. Her reflexes moved faster. Catching Tempest's arm and pulling it behind seemed like a second nature to her. The girl landed fast first into the carpet as Beatrix held her arm upwards, stretching the already aching muscles.

"That was a test. When someone tells you to punch them, they're ultimately trying to trick you."

"And what makes you an expert in fighting?" Tempest twisted her head to see Beatrix still holding her arm hostage.

"I grew up with five brothers, a dozen cousins, nine uncles, and a cranky Hungarian grandmother who'd be able to knock a person out with just one hand. It was either submit like a docile mouse or fight back." Beatrix released Tempest's arm.

Beatrix helped Tempest to her feet then patted her on the back.

"I think that's all for today."

"Good, because I have to get to rehearsals," Tempest started making her way out of the living room. Beatrix was already busy putting the furniture back where they originally were placed.

"Do you think you have enough strength?" Beatrix asked while she rearranged the couch so that it faced away from the window again.

"I'm a native of New York City. I'm tough as nails." She half-lied. Truth be told, her legs and arms felt like heavy sacks of potatoes. Or stones. Either way, when she came home the first thing she'd do was fall into the bed and sleep soundlessly.

* * *

Beatrix waited at the top of the stairs, foot tapping. Ciel came through the front door with Sebastian shortly behind him. He noticed Beatrix waiting impatiently by the door. At first, he considered the idea that she was waiting for him. But then, her eyes turned towards the grand entrance staircase. Ciel came to the conclusion that she stood around waiting for Tempest.

"Are you driving her somewhere?" He asked, trying not to sound like a love-sick puppy. It became increasingly difficult to keep a neutral tone when speaking to or about Tempest. The feeling of her presence so near to him, frankly, disturbed the daylights out of him. Obsession grew into genuine concern, however he couldn't allow Sebastian to realize this. Of source, the other demon already knew. It was no secret.

"Apparently, she's brave enough to go to her rehearsals today. This play's bloody important to her, that's for sure." Beatrix glanced at her watch. "And she'd better get down here before I change my mind."

A door slammed shut and heavy footsteps sprang from the hall above, loud enough for all to hear. Tempest came abounding down the steps in a turtle neck sweater, a pleated mini-skirt, and thick tights. On her feet, she stomped around in heavy laced boots. Her entire outfit was black with her matching hair pulled into a messy bun. Tempest barely took notice of Ciel or Sebastian as she whizzed past with a dark green jacket and the script tucked in her arms. Beatrix didn't even need to look at Ciel to know what he was thinking.

"Relax, it's only seventy degrees outside. She's not going to catch a cold…" Her eyes caught a glimpse of a faint blush across his cheeks. The grim reaper did her best not to laugh, not even a chuckle, but the look on his face was positively hilarious. Then she had an idea. A wonderfully awful idea.

"Oh, now I see," she mused, "that's not what your problem is, now is it, Phantomhive?"

"Shut up." Ciel mumbled. "That skirt is far too short."

"She has amazing legs, wouldn't you agree. It's not the Victorian period any more. She's a young adult. You're lucky that she's wearing tights underneath, otherwise your sight really would be offended by all of her flesh," Beatrix added with a smirk. She strolled through the door which was left wide open. "Just try not to imagine what would happen if a gust of wind blew up against her skirt."

Ciel opened his mouth to either complain or yell at her, but she was already out the door and skipping down the path to her still damaged car. She tossed Sebastian yet another angry glare.

"She has point, sir," Sebastian chimed in.

"And what point is that?" Ciel asked bitterly. He still fought to keep the redness in his cheeks to minimum, though he was failing.

"She does have nice legs..." He stifled his laughter when his master turned to him, eye glowing with its supernatural light and more than a twinge of anger, possibly even jealousy. "I apologize, sir. It is not my place."

"You'd better be sorry," Ciel said not another word and stormed away.

* * *

Story Idea Contest: Yes, I'm having another one. I haven't been sleeping well because of anxiety induced insomnia and classes to take, a job to find, I'm swamped. So if you guys could be lambs and give me hand here. This time there's a theme. I want an idea that somehow encompasses something from Sweeny Todd. Be creative, not literal. I don't want to put a butcher in the middle of the story here, when the characters are already busy with other things. No songs about free market cannibalism, if you please. Be creative and have fun with it! Cheers


	61. Chapter 58

"What's the sound of the world, my dear?"

"What, Mr. Todd? What is that sound?"

"That crunching noise pervading air!"

"Yes, Mr. Todd. Yes, all around."

"It's man devouring man, my dear…"

"Then are we to deny it 'ere!"

The rehearsal cut short as the director's cell phone with its obnoxious ring tone overwhelmed even the orchestra. All the actors on stage groaned; even Tempest hung her head in frustration. She went to the edge of the stage while the director chatted away with only God knew who. It must have been very important. Rumors had it that the director's girlfriend was pregnant and due any day now. She went for her water bottle and gulped down. Finished, she screwed the cap back on and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve.

'Sweeny Todd's' leading male leaned over the fake counter, fingers rapping against the cheap balsa.

"I'm getting really tired of this shit," he mumbled, "If you're not going to take something serious, give the job to somebody who will."

"To be fair, he's got a kid on the way," Tempest cleared her throat. She still used her Cockney accent.

"He could at least give the reins to someone else when he knows he's going to have a kid on the way. It's kind of inconsiderate to the rest of his." This leading male's accent wasn't fake. From his resume alone, they all knew Alexander Tripoli really was from London, or somewhere in England. Nobody knew for sure.

His blue eyes wandered towards Tempest. She stood next to him as everyone waited for the director to get off the phone. He kept shaking violently, but there he wore a grin from ear to ear. He chatted away incoherently. This was not the first time he'd been distracted, while distracting the entire cast and crew. Mr. Collins seemed to be entirely enthusiastic, bordering on hysterical at the moment.

"Does your boyfriend mind you walkin' around like that?" Alexander asked suddenly.

Tempest blushed and looked away. She didn't want to know what Ciel's reaction was to her short skirt before she scurried out the front door. She shook her head. Why would she care what he thought? Did his opinion really matter to her?

Then again, she could at least be nice. Tempest lived under his roof, as odd as it seemed, without contributing anything except doing her own laundry. However, that was due mainly to the fact that the very idea of having Sebastian do them for her frankly disturbed her. His whole being disturbed her. Anyhow, she couldn't think of hurting Ciel's feelings, though he remained in a probationary state ever since that letter incident some weeks ago. Still, Tempest felt guilty for not even letting him in. The least she could do was to forgive and forget. Ciel looked so young, but she never treated him like a child. She could show that he could be a friend.

"I-I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, I see. Do you…swing for the other team then," Alexandra nodded his head to the very back of the theater where Beatrix sat in the gloomy shadows, surprisingly asleep. One would think that a theater full of bustling actors, crew teams, and musicians would keep someone awake. It seemed the grim reaper was a heavy sleeper. Nothing seemed to be able to wake her up.

Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor. She raised her hands defensively, shaking her head with such violence, she thought for a split second that she'd break her own neck.

"I'm not gay. W-why would you think?" The idea repulsed her. Not to say she was against gay-rights or that she was a gay-basher. Hardly. Tempest worked with plenty of people with that particular _sexual orientation_. It never bothered her. It was the fact that he implied that she was in a relationship with Beatrix. That's what repulsed her. If she was attracted to women, Beatrix did not suit her profile. The other woman seemed a bit… crude for Tempest's tastes.

Alexander looked as if he was about to answer when the director interrupted him yet again.

"Good news, guys." Mr. Collin's phone finally snapped shut. "Guess who's going to be here on opening night?"

Nobody moved or even coughed.

"Don't ask all at once," he noted the absolute silence. "Mr. Burton is going to be flying in from California to see how well we do. This is going to be…"

Tempest squealed like a little girl before Mr. Collins could let out a little girl. Beatrix was quickly roused from her nap. She rubbed her eyes, but when she found no danger in sight, she returned to sleep, snuggled up in her leather jacket. Every cast and crew member watched in silent surprise at Tempest, who threw herself into an unrestrained, hysterical fit. She jumped from the stage, grabbed the young director by his shirt collar, and began shaking him like a red-headed step-child.

"Tell me you're not lying!"

Collin's managed to escape her vice grip, fixing his clothes, and very slowly backed away from the seemingly insane actress.

"What on earth is your problem?"

"Tim Burton. _The _Tim Burton is coming to see our production of Sweeny Todd and you're asking me what my problem is? Do you know how big a fan I am? I worship him! He is my absolute favorite director of all time. And he's going to see me, playing the part that his wife portrayed, who is also my favorite actress! Will she be there?" Tempest gasped for breath.

"I really don't know, but it's more than likely…"

Tempest jumped back on the stage, more energetic as ever.

"Then what are we waiting for? We have to make this perfect!"


	62. Chapter 59

Without warning, Beatrix strolled into the library Ciel occupied himself in, busy reading another book. She perched herself on the desk, crossing her legs at the knees, and shut the book. Lowly growling, he found the page again and placed a book mark where he left off before shoving the book aside. He raised his head to look her in the eyes, only to be disturbed by the bizarre face she was making. There was but one other person who could chill him to the bones like that and Undertaker's masked and unreadable left an unforgettable imprint on his brain.

"You have some competition, _young master._" Beatrix teased.

Ciel thought his breath hitched for a moment, then realized that he technically didn't breathe to begin. Second of all, Beatrix had acquired a nasty habit of teasing him. She either owned this habit of poking fun with the wrong people long before they ever met or Beatrix had a death wish, which for a death god would be very ironic.

"What are you blabbering on about now?"

"During rehearsals it seems as though the little lady of the house has a crush on someone. Someone you don't know about."

"I don't care."

"Oh, yes, you do. I may not be a demon and my sense of smell may be worth nothing compared to yours, but I know when a fella's lyin' through his teeth. I bet it's eatin' you up inside already."

"Enough, Bathory!" Ciel slammed his hands against his desk. He rose from his chair, fuming. "I don't need to listen to your theories or make fun of me. I'm still the master of my own house, and if you say one more word, you'll be sleeping that precious car of yours from now on!"

Beatrix was just a little abashed by Ciel's sudden outburst. Perhaps she did push him too far? She slowly walked away from him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you felt so strongly."

Ciel returned to his chair. "Just don't repeat it," which was his way of saying, 'Apology accepted.'

"But, seriously though, you should have seen her at rehearsals. Apparently, she has a major crush on this Tim Burton guy. A film director, I believe. She screamed like a crazed teenage girl at a Beetle's concert. Woke me up from my nap," plopped into the sofa. She rested her feet at the other end while her head rested against a pillow.

"You were napping when you were supposed be acting as her bodyguard?" Ciel glared.

"She was surrounded by people. Like any demon's going to be so bold as to make a move with a bunch of humans standing around? Even if they'd kill everybody in the theater, someone would be bound to notice that at least fifty, sixty, people were murdered in a single day." Beatrix's answer seemed logical enough.

Ciel lightened up, just a little though. He glanced at the grim reaper who was reclining on his sofa. He noticed in particular the ripped jeans and the black on white band t-shirt. Beatrix's strange hair-do was worn down today with her thick bangs still hanging over her forehead and her reddish, out of control locks falling over her shoulders. A pair of skull-shaped hairclips kept some of her hair out of her face. The grinning sugar skulls stared blankly back at him. She noticed his glance and looked down at her shirt.

"What? Don't the like the Ramones?" She asked passively.

"I don't understand you, quite frankly. I can understand Sebastian. And even Tempest, even if she won't let me in half the time. I've seen every kind of lunacy in human beings. Yet, I don't understand you." He spoke honestly.

Beatrix sat up, swinging her legs over the cushions of the sofa. She inhaled and exhaled softly. It seemed to last several minutes before she answered. Behind her glasses, he could see painful memories forming in the back of her head.

"I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind. Edgar Allen Poe. To be frank, I don't understand myself either at times. To understand me, I'd have to understand myself, and there are days when I don't want to go back there. I've left everything behind the moment I told you I wanted to quit reaping souls for a living. My old man's probably disowned me. Mum's forgotten me. Too busy taking care of the grandkids she got from all of her sons. I don't have home any more. The English dispatch has most likely confiscated everything in there. Don't take what I say personally. I was raised like my brothers. In other words, like a boy. I say mean things sometimes because that's how they acted and I copied them because I didn't have anyone else to learn from. I didn't have sisters or female cousins. My mum was busy caring of my brothers and aunts were raising their own kids. My grandmum was the worst of all, I'm afraid. She'd cuss and scream and get into drunken brawls. I once saw her make a grown man cry. I didn't have women to look up to. I'm sorry if I don't act at all like a lady, like Tempest. I'm sure you're used to women who are. Teasing is just how I relate to people."

"Bathory, I…"

The library door swung open. Sebastian wore a professional smile, yet one could see a slight glimmer of playful mischievousness.

"We have a guest," he announced.

"Who?" Ciel rose once more from his chair and marched over to the butler.

"Your future father in law…"

Ciel's cheeks turned beet red. "Don't call him that!"

* * *

"I know this going to sound a little weird, but I need to borrow the kitchen for a few hours." Tempest looked serious when she looked the butler in the eyes.

Sebastian, of course, was compelled by curiosity to her need to occupy the kitchen for an unspecified amount of time.

"Whatever for?"

"I'm an actress, right?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"And there's a technique among actors called 'method acting.' It's when an actor completely immerses themselves in their role. It's when an actor completely identifies with the emotional aspects of a character by learning everything they can about their character's time period or what have you. I'm playing Mrs. Lovett from Sweeny Todd. She makes pies. So, in order for me to identify with her, I have to borrow the kitchen."

"To make pies?" The idea seemed silly and incredulous to him.

"Exactly." Tempest seemed dead serious. She wasn't going to back down.

"Try not to make too much of a mess, Miss Tempest. I'm the one who has to clean it up, remember," Sebastian sighed.

The girl had already disappeared from the dining hall. She left the kitchen door swinging behind her.

* * *

"Did you come in for a pie, sir? Do forgive me if it's a little vague," Tempest firmly patted down the dough with the rolling pin like she saw something crawl underneath it. "What was that? Did you think we had the plague from the way people keep avoidin'? No, you don't. H'aven knows I try, sir. But there's no one to inhale. Right, you are, so would you like a drop of ale? Never mind the worst pies in London. Even as polite, the worst pies in London."

Tempest wiped sweat from her brow. Her throat was getting dry from inhaling the flour dust in the air and from singing nearly non-stop. This production had to be perfect. She had to meet Tim Burton. That was one of her life's dreams. The most difficult part was the cockney accent.

She fixed the dough on top of another miniature pie dish, already stuffed with fillings of vegetables, meat, and gravy. Using a knife, she cut away the extra dough and rolled into a ball. Tempest carefully cut through the uncooked crust with the knife, forming an 'x' at the very top for ventilation. She put it with the others on a cooking tray while she waited for her first batch to finish in the oven.

"What's the sound of the world out there? Those crunching noises pervading the air!" The knife clipped through her fingers, clattering against the kitchen counter.

Tempest's eyes darted towards the source of the Cockney voice singing a verse from another musical number.

"Dad?"


	63. Chapter 60

Lillian stared from a near-by rooftop down towards the burning wreck she just created with merely a flick of her wrist. Being a witch had its perks. She hoped that with this new church gone up in smoke, the hospital would be more likely to release Jacobi, though she feared that he wouldn't love her anymore. He lagged behind during their last 'trip' and so was caught.

As she watched the flames grow higher and higher still, her mind went back to the fateful day so long ago….

_The year was 1776, and while the Americans were waging war against their mother country, France was a boiling pot about to spill over. Something was going to give. You didn't need to be witch in order to see that in the near future the peasantry rising up against King Louis. It would come. _

_In this year, people still feared witches. Lillian and her husband, Andre, settled far away in the countryside, hidden in the woods. They lived peacefully. No one discovered them. _

_Lillian Calico walked through the unmarked path towards their cottage. She carried a basket of flowers and herbs in one hand and a bundle of cloth in the other. She quietly hummed to herself. Returning from a long journey to a little village in northern France for rare ingredients that she couldn't find in her home, she never suspected anything. The forest seemed calm to her. Being particularly sensitive to the Mother Nature, Lillian never sensed anything wrong. Birds flew above her head from tree branch to tree branch. A doe and her fawn drank from the crystal stream. Lillian envied the doe and touched her stomach. Part of her curse was that she could never have children of her own. Immortality had drawbacks. _

_She walked further along until suddenly she smelled something in the air. Ignoring it, Lillian continued further, but the smell grew stronger. The air became heavy with ash. When she nearly reached the wrought iron gate, she understood why the wind carried such a foul odor. _

_The cloth she carried and basket fell to her feet, the herbs tumbling into the dirt. Lillian looked on the blackened remains of her home, pretending for it to be an illusion. Andre must have casted a charm to protect the cottage while she was away. She pushed open the gate, her legs almost buckling beneath. Her cracked voice called his name, but he never answered. Her trembling fingers untied her bonnet. She quickly cast it aside as she entered what was left of her threshold. _

_Four charred beams were all the remained of the cottage, save the brick chimney. The rafters littered the dirt floor in broken, burnt up piles along with every treasure they collected over the years. The air around her was dead. _

_She spotted a dried up corpse, burnt to a grey black color, heaped near the fireplace. Despite the fire's damage, she recognized the coat. Lillian stumbled as she reached out to touch it. She had sewn that coat for Andre. He wore it every time she went away; he promised to wear to make sure he kept faithful. Each stitch she poured her love and devotion to her husband. A shaking hand went to touch the skull, only for it to reduce to dust at her slightest touch. _

_The fire place was for decoration only. A witch's one and only weakness was fire. Andre would have never lit the fireplace. He was murdered, murdered by those villagers who feared them. They never wanted to learn about them. They only knew fear and hatred. Lillian's anger and hatred built up inside her chest. Her breathing became rapid and her limbs trembled with rage. One thing was on her mind now. She had vengeance on the brain. _

"_My, my, what do I have here?" A sultry voice beckoned from the shadows of the forest. _

_Lillian's green eyes flashed towards the source of the voice. There stood, beneath the large oak tree, a tall, lithe but athletic man, with eyes red as blood and hair black as night. _

"_Demon," she spat. _

"_You shouldn't be glaring at me like that. Though you do look positively ravishing when you're angry." _

"_Be gone, foul thing, before I take my anger out on you!" Lillian got to her feet. She climbed over the debris of her home, fighting back tears. _

"_You want revenge. I can help you."_

"_I'm not interested in a contract," she gathered the basket and dumped its contents into the grass. Placing the cloth in her basket, she replaced her bonnet back on her head. _

"_You can't make a contract. You're immortal. I'm no amateur demon, mademoiselle. I am Gideon and I will be blunt. I'm bored. My contract isn't over yet, but I want to find something to do. You want to take bloody vengeance on those villagers; I want a retreat from my boredom." _

"_How do I know you're not the one who killed my husband?" _

"_I have no need to kill a witch. Your only suspects are just down the road. Give them an eye for an eye, shall we say?" The demon Gideon's offer sounded oh-so-very tempting. _

"_You'll help me destroy an entire village? You gluttonous pig," she snickered. _

"_And you're a blood-thirsty harpy." _

_Lillian approached him and grabbed his hand. Her handshake was firm and unhesitating. "We have an accord. You can have as many souls as you can eat. Only let me be the one to kill." _

_The demon called Gideon grinned. "I knew you were going to be fun."_


	64. Chapter 61

Part Two

_Dawn would never come for the village once known as Notre Dame de Fleur. Lillian set the whole place ablaze, burning everything and everyone in sight. Gideon followed at her heels sucking up the souls of the dying before grim reapers could get their hands on them. The last of her rage she used to destroy the church. With a flick of her wrist, she smashed the statue of the Virgin Mary, the statue the villagers loved so dearly. She watched as the church and all of the holy grounds burn up, the flames rising higher and higher towards the night sky. _

_Suddenly, she felt the demon's cold hands touch her shoulder. _

"_How do you feel now?" _

"_I'm at war with the world and every mortal soul in it. They'll never let me be. They'll use their religion to hunt me down. I have done nothing to them, yet they all wish me dead!" Lillian fell to her knees. She had her revenge, but there was still a deep, black hole in her heart. No magic in the world could bring Andre back. Never more would she wake up to his cheerful golden eyes or his delightful smile or feel his warm embrace. _

"_And now that you've destroyed an entire village," Gideon walked around her and lifted her off her knees, "what do you plan to do with the rest of your immortality?" _

"_I have no idea…" _

Lillian returned to her apartment above the flower shop. Mortals, as much as she hated them, she couldn't get away. They left behind their witch hunts and mass hysterias in the past, but she held onto her hatred for them. Andre, where ever he may be, was gone.

She immediately went to the kitchen, where she checked on her most recent project. The week was almost over andCiel Phantomhive had yet to produce Jacobi. He had three days left. She was beginning to wonder whether or not that he would keep to his word. Gideon, or rather Sebastian, may have influenced his young master. However, Ciel's energy was steeped in something much greater than anything Sebastian could have given him.

The strange plant sat on her counter, fixed in a square, black flower pot. To anyone else, it looked like a dying bonsai tree people kept in their offices or kitchens when they couldn't plant anything for a lack of garden space. Indeed, its shriveled limbs and thin bark did not impress. It bore no leaves of any kind. None at all, making this plant completely pathetic. She quickly poured water into the dried soil. A single bud sprouted from a tiny branch. The bud grew to the size of one's thumb before suddenly stopping. The bud's color looked hot pink from the base until it faded into a bright orange color. Ciel had three more days before the flower that had yet to fully blossom become totally useless and rot away.

"The clock is ticking, Monsieur Phantomhive. I am not a patient woman…"

* * *

Elsewhere in New York City

"Dad?" Tempest wiped the flour dust the accumulated on her hands. The flour dirtied her dark skirt, which she hadn't changed out of. When she turned to see her father, she kicked herself mentally. Sure, she had known Undertaker briefly, but wearing a _mini-skirt _of all things when he popped by for a visit didn't feel appropriate at all.

"A little priest," he pointed with his long, dark nail.

"No, it's cherry."

"You're an actress, no?"

"Oh, right. Let's see…ah-ha." Tempest quickly shifted gears and pretended that the man standing in the kitchen with her wasn't her father. "It's priest. Have a little priest."

"Is it any good?"

"Sir, it's too good at least. Then again they don't commit sins of the flesh. So it's pretty fresh."

"Awful lot of fat," Undertaker joined in.

Tempest paused for a spilt second. She hadn't the slightest idea that her father knew Sweeny Todd. "Only where it sat."

"Haven't you got poet or something like that?"

"No, sir. You see the trouble with poet is how do you know it's deceased. Try the priest."

They pretended to look out an imaginary window, continue playing the scene. Tempest admitted that her dad did play a mean Sweeny Todd.

"Lawyer's rather nice."

"If it's for a price…"

"Then order something else, though, to follow since no one should swallow it twice."

"Anything that's lean," he rested his hand on her shoulder, peering through the non-exist window.

Tempest pointed. "Well, if you're British and loyal, you might enjoy Royal Marine. Of course it's clean, but it tastes of wherever it's been!"

"There's that squire on the fire!"

"No, see, look closer. You'll notice it's grocer."

"Looks thicker, like a vicar."

"No, sir; it has to be grocer. It's green," Tempest hushed towards the last line, like Helena Bowman, who was also her idol.

Undertaker placed one of his long fingernails beneath her chin. His bangs shifted ever so slightly. Tempest could see for only a second or two his yellow-green eyes through his silver hair.

"I'll come again when you have _boyfriend _on the menu," he smirked.

Heat immediately rose to her cheeks when that blasphemous word fell from his lips. She knew who he meant, but she never thought he'd jump on the bandwagon with the rest of the fathers in the world embarrassing their children. Tempest hoped that he would save it until they really got to know each other better.

"Dad!" The word seemed so foreign to her, yet it came so easily at this moment. Besides, it would be weird addressing her father as _Undertaker _anyway.

Carefully, Undertaker pinched her cheek. "You look so cute when you're blushing."

"I see you've made managed to slip inside without an invitation." Sebastian appeared in the kitchen's doorway.

Undertaker quickly whipped around, grinning madly at the butler. "And it's good to see you again, Mister Butler."

Sebastian sighed. "I'll be sure to tell the young master that we have guest."


	65. Chapter 62

"Undertaker, what brings you here?" Ciel asked as he entered the living room.

Tempest and Undertaker had already made themselves comfortable on the couch. Ciel grabbed a seat in the armchair by the fireplace, turning it so he faced them. It seemed unusual for Undertaker to show up without his top hat. Sitting next to her, the similarities between himself and his daughter were more pronounced. The shape of the eyes, more instance, were without a doubt the same, as well as the nose and facial structure.

"Just checking in on my little darling," he pinched Tempest's cheek. The girl blushed from embarrassment and flinched while he did so.

"Dad!"

"You look so cute when you're blushing. You must be beating those boys off with a stick," he let go and briefly turned towards Ciel. "But unfortunately, I didn't come here for just a holiday. I didn't come alone. Mr. Speares should be arriving any second."

"Speares?" Ciel's eyes went wide for a moment.

"He's fetching the department manager of the New York division. A minor formality."

"A minor formality? Allow me to remind you that he tried to kill me last time. What could he possibly want?" Ciel became so enraged that he rose from his chair. His eye already turned magenta making Tempest flinch just slightly.

Ciel noticed the slight change and took a deep breath. He plopped back into his chair, body still rigged. He couldn't relax. Whatever Speares had in mind, he had a feeling that it wasn't anything good. He most likely still wanted him dead. As for what may happen to Tempest, Ciel feared for the worst.

Beatrix happened to be walking past the front door on her way to her bedroom. She looked about, but couldn't find Sebastian.

"Hmph, some butler he is. Never around to fetch the bloody door himself." Beatrix grumbled as she went out of her way to get it.

She was greeted with a sharp glare from her former boss.

"Speares." She said coolly.

"Bathory." He returned.

A blonde woman in a beige and black pinstripe suit cleared her throat. Another grim reaper, the characteristic green eyes were shielded behind a pair of vintage, white cat-eye eye-wear.

"Frankly, I don't care what's going on between you, but I'd really like to get our business over with. If ya'll don't mind, I'm gonna step right through her," her accent defiantly came from south of the Mississippi River.

The blonde pushed her way past them both and entered the home without any hesitation. Beatrix hesitated herself in letting William enter. He stood there, glaring at her. She was never afraid of him, but the look on his face simply irritated. She stepped aside and let him in. When his back was turned, she flipped him the bird and then stuck out her tongue in a childish manner.

"I hope you're satisfied with your current employment, Bathory because you're no longer allowed back. Your father was furious when I told him what happened. As far as he's concerned, you're no longer his child. How does that make you feel?"

"Are you trying to upset me? If you are, you're failing miserably. I never had an interest in being a grim reaper. And my father has plenty of sons better suited for this line of work. I doubt he's hurting that much." Beatrix walked in front of him and led the way to the living room.

The other grim reaper turned to them as they walked in.

"Good, we're all here." The woman shuffled through her brief case, pulling out a stapled stack of documents and an ink pen. "My name is Denise Manchester and I'm the department head for the New York City division of the Grim Reaper Society. Now, I've come to understand that you have a 'death scythe', am I right?"

"Y-yes." Tempest stammered. She already began chewing on her fingernails.

"Then, I'm gonna need you to sign these here documents. They just say that you agree to never collect souls for any division in any city in the United States and England. You can keep your death scythe only for self-defense. If you could go ahead and sign, for me and we'll be out of your hair," Denise pushed the documents with just the tips of her fingernails.

Tempest stopped chewing her nails long enough for her to pick up the stack of documents and begin reading. She silently read, though by the looks of it, Denise wasn't a patient woman. Her foot began tapping. Her eyes flashed towards Ciel, then went back to Tempest who was still reading.

"You don't really have to read the whole thing, darlin'. If you could just sign on the very last page back there, that'd be great." Denise failed to produce a winning smile. It looked forced.

"I'm not stupid. I don't sign anything until I read the whole thing. Patience is a virtue." Tempest never looked up from the papers in her hand and continued reading.

"Not right now it isn't. I don't want to be here with that _thing_ over there. So just sign the damn contract already!" Everyone knew that she was referring to Ciel, sitting uncomfortably in his chair, nearly half way across the room.

Tempest sighed, but otherwise ignored her. It took several more minutes before she was satisfied. She reached for the pen and as she signed her name, Denise looked ready to snatch up the papers from her. They were stuffed carefully, but in a rushed manner, into her brief case.

"Thank you, darlin'. Have a nice day." She turned to exit the living room with great haste.

Tempest got up and went after the grim reaper. Something didn't feel right.

"Just one question. Answer me this one question."

Denise stopped in her tracks. "Go ahead." She heaved an aggravated sigh.

"Why is that all of a sudden you people don't want me to be a grim reaper. You wait until now to have me sign paper work saying that I'm officially banned from being one, yet you seemed so determined back in London to snatch me away from Ciel. Is there something I should know? I'm not stupid. If there's anything at all, I want to know about."

"Listen you," Denise looked over her shoulder, glaring at the girl. "I don't take orders from a bratty youngster like yourself. All I'm gonna to tell you is that your family has plenty of ugly little skeletons in their closets and you're just gonna have to search through them yourself."

"Bratty? Youngster? I'm twenty-two years old. I'm not a brat. You don't know anything about me." Tempest argued.

"Quite frankly my dear I don't give a damn. If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with some souls in an upstate prison. Souls don't collect themselves." Denise turned for a final time and disappeared from view. The front door was slammed shut.

"And you're still here because," Ciel motioned towards William. He stood around so quietly, it was easy to forget that he was ever there to begin.

"I was going to try to make Miss McIntyre reconsider…"

Tempest put her hand in front of his face. "That girl doesn't exist. Emilie McIntyre stopped existing six years ago. My name is Tempest Stayne. Remember that."

William moved her hand away. "Your stage name is hardly proper. Besides, if you could have just changed your mind, perhaps you may have made something of your life."

"Uh oh," Beatrix snickered.

Tempest didn't say a word, but her hands were shaking at her sides.

"Acting is frivolous. I don't know who in their right mind would consider it as an actual career." William continued.

"You know what, douchebag," Tempest's voice suddenly changed. Her _real _accent was so thick now it sounded like she never dropped it in the first place. "I don't go over to where you live and tell you how to live your life. Acting is what makes me happy. And another thing, it took me four years to get rid of this accent and it took two minutes for you to make me so angry that I revert back! You think my job is frivolous. At least I'm not wasting my life at the world's suckiest job. Day in and day out to collect the souls of the dead. No body thanks you. You don't get many vacations. The job would bore a zombie back to death! You can fall off the Empire State Building and land on the sharp end of your gardening tool you've got there!"

"There's no need to be rowdy." William adjusted his glasses.

"This isn't rowdy." Tempest threw him a good punch square in the nose. She moved so fast nobody, not even him, could have seen it, let alone dodge it. "This is!"

William tumbled backwards to the floor, his reaping tool clattering to the floor beside him. A small puddle of blood dripped to the floor. Beatrix looked on proudly.

"I taught her that." She chuckled at the sight of William T. Speares getting up from the floor with shaking knees and a nose full of blood.

"Of course you did," William's voice was muffled by his hand holding his bludgeoned nose. "I'll be taking my leave now." He picked up his reaping tool and was seen no more, except for the small blood puddles that trailed behind him as he left.

"I do wonder where that butler of yours is." Undertaker piped in.

"Oh, he's off doing an errand." Ciel replied.


	66. Chapter 63

Within the confines of Bellevue Hospital, poor Dr. Raja Kuthrapali is having the worst nightmare in his life.

_A glaring white light shined down on him, blinding him. His eyes slowly became used to the bright lamp overhead, but it seemed like forever. Raja didn't even remember falling asleep. He just took a single bite out of his lunch, a vegetarian sub, and he suddenly felt so tired. Raja was out like a light. He knew for sure he'd never order food from the restaurant again. _

_The blinding light above him dimmed as his eyes adjusted. Raja found himself bound and strapped tightly to a hospital bed like one of his more violent patients. Perhaps there was an underlying feeling of guilt? Then again, dream-interpretation didn't belong in psychology or the treatment of patients with psychological disorders. Dream interpretation was a product of misinformed primitive and folk healers hopped up on hallucinogenic plant smoke. This dream meant nothing. _

_But if this dream truly had no special meaning, then why did he have this oppressive fear growing inside of him? _

_His eyes darted to either side of him. Raja was alone in a dark ward. Linen curtains were hung from room dividers nurses used to give patients the luxury of some privacy in a ward that often contained three or more of them in a single room. But there wasn't anybody around and that scared him the most. His heart began pumping blood through his veins. The calm, rhythmic beatings became faster and faster still. Adrenaline rushed through Raja's body as a pair of footsteps finally echoed in the room. _

"_I can tell the character of a man by the sound of his heartbeat, Doctor," a man paused at the edge of the bed, "And by the sound of it, I can almost dance to the beating of yours."_

_Raja was greeted by a pair of blood-red, hungry for blood. _

"_W-what are you!?" His throat turned dry. Raja barely managed to utter those words of sheer terror of the unknown, a fear that crept inside his head and filled him entirely. He tried fighting against the straps, only for them to magically tighten by invisible hands. The dark man merely laughed at Raja's attempts to free himself. _

"_I'm your worst nightmare," his hand reached over to a met tray, "but I do wish that you forgive me. I'm merely following my master's orders."_

_The man's head eclipsed the over head lamp. In his hands, he held a razor-sharp scalpel. His black-painted fingernails clutched the tool as if it had been a pencil with all the skill and ease of a trained medical doctor. His pale lips formed a smile. A devious, cruel, unforgettable smile. The red in his eyes seemingly grew brighter, as if the fires of Agni burned behind them. Raja shuddered as he stared, terrified, into the eyes of this man, this _thing. _He could see tiny demons dancing in the shadows of this man's fiery eyes. _

_The blade of the scalpel came down agonizingly slow down his left leg, slicing not only through the fabric of his pants, but through his very flesh. Hot, fresh blood pooled beneath him. Raja tried to scream, but his throat became so dry nothing would come out anymore. His lips quivered all the same. The screams in his head made up for the sudden disability of his vocal cords. Another wound was introduced to his other leg. Raja kept his head where it lay. He didn't want to see what this _thing_ was doing to him. Blood made him queasy, which was why he studied psychology instead of medicine, despite his parent's objection. _

_From the corner of Raja's eyes, he could make out the man torturing him. He wore all black, a modern business suit. His nails, as mentioned before, were painted black. Raja barely managed to make out the strange, circular tattoo on his left hand. Ebony fell in front of the man's face, sometimes shielding his red eyes from view. Had Raja not been tortured by him, he might as well confess that he was attractive, even by a straight man's standards. _

_The man sliced up Raja's arm from shoulder to his inner elbow. Raja kept his eyes upwards, not daring to look at the blood. The blood dribbled down either side of this limb. He struggled to breathe now. The pounding in his chest completely audible. His ears rang in company with his rapid heartbeat. With ringing in his ears, his loud heartbeat, and the sounds of the scalpel carving up his flesh, Raja had a horrific musical playing all around him. An opera directed by that cruel _thing _with_ _a symphony of bloody violence. _

"Doctor Kuthrapali?" A knock aroused him from his twisted nightmare.

Clara, his secretary, poked her brunet head through his closed door. She pushed her sliding glasses back up so that they wouldn't meet with the floor. Raja fixed his tie and picked up his veggie burger. He looked at it once more, but the vile memory of his nightmare prevented him from taking another bite. Instead, it was tossed into his trash bin beside his desk. The burger and the paper it was wrapped landed with a dull sound as it weighted down on top of the other useless junk he didn't need.

"You're next appointment is here." Clara disappeared again behind the door.

Raja ran his fingers through his cropped hair. Absent-mindedly, he rolled up his sleeves and examined his arms. He would have checked his legs too, but his appointment showed up before he could duck down underneath his check and see if the wounds were still there. Raja looked up to find himself staring into the face of the same man from his dreams, except he was real. He could feel his blood rushing through him once more. He swallowed hard and rose to meet him. His shaking hand was grasped firmly in the man's. The _man_, for lack of a better, gave Raja an unsettling half-smile; just he had done in his dream. His hair was slicked back and his nails were covered with white gloves. Had it not been for those, he would have looked differently with his business suit and black tie tied up to the collar of his red shirt. The man in his black suit handed him a clipboard and attached to it were yellow papers, release forms.

"As you've seen on the news, the John Doe you have locked up in your psychiatric ward isn't the arsonist the police are looking for. I've been through all proper channels. I only need you to sign these release forms and I'll be taking him off your hands." He plucked an ink pen from Raja's coffee mug which served as a pencil holder.

Not wanting to have this man in his presence any longer, Raja snatched the pen and signed where needed. Without so much as looking at the _man_, he shoved the clipboard back towards him.

"Thank you, sir," Raja heard the man walk slowly towards the door, much to his relief. Then the man paused and added, "I hear that chamomile tea is wonderful for fixing sleeping problems."

Sebastian shut the door behind him with a devilish grin spread across his face. It was mere child's play adapting to the psychologist's hemophobia. However, he had no idea that the psychologist would cave to easily. Now, to find the patient in question.

Female nurses turned their heads as he walked by. He paid them no mind for three very important reasons: one, he had very little time on his hands. His master's orders were to be filled promptly. Two, Lillian, as he remembered, wasn't patient and she craved immediate satisfaction. And finally, three, none of these women quite suited his tastes. They seemed too eager to fall on their knees before him. Their blushing faces reminded him that he was no longer in the 19th century. Women had no convictions nowadays. A shame, if you asked him. At least back then women gave you a run for your money. Now, they practically gave it away.

He stopped at the room number four-four-six the psychiatric ward. The door creaked open and was promptly closed behind him. The fragile boy sat alone in his bed, dressed on in the gown given him by the hospital. His startled blue eyes looked up and then quickly looked down.

"Do you know who I am?" Sebastian edged towards the bed carefully. One wrong move and the boy could unleash his power right there in the hospital room. He didn't underestimate the boy's size or by the sullen look on his face. This boy, Jacobi, was most likely raised and trained under Lillian. He'd rather not see what Jacobi could do on his own.

Jacobi nodded. His white-blonde hair shifted across his faced, hiding his blue eyes.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

"No, monsieur." He answered. Sebastian had no idea where Jacobi came from or how old he was, but he might have guessed that he hailed from France. No surprise there. Lillian had a bit of a nationalist streak in her too.

"I'm here to take you back to your mother. Nobody will ever notice your disappearance. They'll simply believe that you were transferred somewhere else," Sebastian pulled a large paper bag out of thin air and placed it at the foot of the hospital bed. "These will help you blend in easier."

Jacobi sat in the bed so silently that it even had Sebastian worried. The boy began to tremble and as Sebastian approached for a better look at him, he smelled the distinct saltiness of tears. Jacobi raised his head only to bury his face into Sebastian's jacket.

"Don't zend me back to her, Monsieur! Zend me elsewhere! Anywhere!" Jacobi wailed.

"Don't you miss your mother?"

"No! You don't understand! She iz insane!" Jacobi looked up with his crystal blue eyes blurred with his tears. "She burns churches! I tried to stop her a few months ago, but I was caught instead of her. She scares me. I was glad when I was caught. I don't want to go back to her!"

Sebastian thought for a long time. "Well, this does put a damper on the young master's plan."


	67. Chapter 64

"Is there something else you needed to do while you were in New York," Tempest over at her dad who reclined back into the couch. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought but then quickly came down to earth.

Undertaker's face turned uncharacteristically bitter. The only thing remaining of his normal nature was a fraction of a smile.

"I have to pay my respects to a very special person. I believe she's a resident in a cemetery in Queen's."

"I see," Tempest rose quickly, straightening her skirt that it at least appeared longer than it was. "I'll go change then."

When she disappeared, Ciel got out of his chair too.

"You plan to visit her mother's grave?"

"She was the mother of my child. How could I come here and not pay my respects? More importantly, little earl, I have a debt to pay, one that I intend to pay back."

"Making up time that you've lost with her. You knew that she existed but never bothered to show up." Said Ciel rather solemnly.

Undertaker didn't say a word, but continued grinning.

"Do you have a car, sir? Or would you like me to drive you two there?" Beatrix asked. She stood straight while she talked with her superior.

"How is that you can talk to him like he's your boss, but you insist on calling me names?" Ciel couldn't help but be a little annoyed.

"Very simple, I don't _work_ for you. I'm helping Tempest, as a friend and as a grim reaper. _To her._ It's two different things entirely." Beatrix replied in her usual cynical way of speaking.

"I think this should be a trip for _all _of us to take," Undertaker gave Ciel a side-glance from over his shoulder. "Don't you think so, Ciel?"

Ciel nearly shivered under the glance from Undertaker. Now that he was a demon, it took a lot to make him shiver. But that look in the legendary grim reaper's eye sent a cold chill up his spine. Apparently, fatherhood changed Undertaker in a drastic way. All three of them waited in the foyer. Tempest came quietly down the steps, still in her turtleneck sweater, but at least, according to Ciel's point of view, she wore long jeans instead of a mini-skirt.

Another half-hour later after driving through hectic New York traffic, Beatrix parked the still damaged car in front of the Queen's cemetery. She lingered behind while the three of them made their way towards the gate. Ciel hesitated, remembering the last time he had been there. It seemed like it happened years ago and they both changed from that day afterwards. They had grown from a captor-captive relationship to one that was slowly, but surely, turning into a friendship. Perhaps, given time, and a spell from a witch, it could turn into something more. However, his pessimistic personality wouldn't let him get ahead of himself. There remained no definite end in sight, at least not to his knowledge. He had to play it safe for a while, and hope for the best. Ciel lingered far behind them, giving the father and daughter another moment to bond. Despite the distance, he could still make out their conversations.

They finally reached the new plots towards the back of the cemetery. Ciel stopped behind, but a little closer than before. He watched as Undertaker placed a bouquet of Easter lilies over the grave of Christina McIntyre.

"Too bad I missed it. The grandest gala of a woman's life for the most splendid lady of all. I'm sure the funeral was beautiful."

Tempest shook her head. "There was barely enough to cover the funeral. Her co-workers paid for most of it. It was a relatively small service."

"Too bad," Undertaker sighed. "Tell me one thing, sweeting."

Tempest blushed from embarrassment again. She wasn't used to her father's nicknames yet. "What's that?"

"Why do you continue to live with _him_ when your mother died by the hands of a demon?"

"It's probably like what happens in a vampire-romance novel. I understand that they feed off of humans and as I've seen from other grim reapers, except you and Beatrix, that I'm supposed to hate them. But, I physically can't. At least not anymore. Well, there are times when Ciel out right makes me mad and Sebastian sometimes teases me, but after a while I don't look at the fact that they're soul-eating creatures of darkness. I've gotten so used to it that it doesn't bother me. Besides, my mom died at some other demon's hands. Not theirs. I have no grudge against them just because they're demons too."

Undertaker was silent for the longest time. Tempest was afraid that he wouldn't approve of her current lifestyle and make her move with him. Considering that he seemed on good terms with Ciel, she didn't have that much to fear. Still, the idea was sort of stuck in her brain and couldn't be so easily dislodged.

"Let me tell you a secret," Undertaker paused again. "Demons are attracted to other demons. So few of them go after humans and almost none become attached to a grim reaper. Anyone else, I'm afraid, I've never heard of. Food for thought."

Undertaker began walking away, leaving Tempest utterly confused. She somehow managed to grab his sleeve and make him stop in his tracks.

"What do you mean? Just what are you saying?"

"It's as Manchester told you earlier. Your family, from Christina's side of course, has a skeleton or two lurking in the shadows of their tree, rattling around. I'm afraid you must find out on your own just what secrets your family has been keeping from you."

"Why can't you tell me now?" Panic filled Tempest's voice.

Undertaker gently lifted up her chin so that she looked directly in his eyes. "Because I want you to grow on your own. What good will it do you if I give you clues to the puzzle so easily? Nothing in life is free, sweeting."

Tempest frowned, still more confused than ever. It took a sharp pinch to her cheek to snap her out of it.

"Don't look so gloomy, you'll start to look like Ciel over there." Undertaker's usual big toothy grin appeared again, like the Cheshire's grin out of thin air.

"I heard that!" Ciel hollered back.

Undertaker leaned in a little closer and whispered, "And if he gives you any trouble at all, don't hesitate to tell me."

Tempest released his sleeve and Undertaker strolled away. He tapped Ciel on the shoulder, who then went to Tempest's side. They walked towards her mother's grave. He couldn't make out what she was thinking exactly. Her eyes were clouded with doubt, fear, and overwhelming confusion. By the look on her face, she must have felt completely disoriented by her own thoughts. That was the second time someone told her that her family had skeletons in their closets. But what on earth could be so important, so dark and mysterious that it had to be kept under lock and key? What could be going on that allowed the grim reapers of the world to know, but Tempest was left in the dark?

Ciel would worry about it later. He stared blankly at the depressing tombstone. It stood out only because it was so plain. No decorative markings. Only the name of the deceased and their date of birth and death. Nothing special. The only resemblance of human kindness and pity were Undertaker's flowers and the dried up remains of ones Tempest must have put not too long ago. The ones sitting in an inexpensive vase still had color left in them. Autumn weather would quickly change that in the next week for sure. He said nothing, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. I understand why you might be nervous. My mom died by the hands of a demon, but I don't hold it against you. She made the decision to sell her soul to a demon. You had nothing to do with it." Tempest looked over at him, giving him the smallest fraction of a smile. "I don't hate you." She reassured him.

"After all that I've done to you. Kidnapping, chasing you, trying to take your soul, dragging you three thousand miles from your home to a man you've never met, practically throwing you off a speeding train. You still have even the slightest bit of compassion towards me?" Ciel didn't understand her thinking. Perhaps he was so used to people hating and reviling him that it seemed bizarre for him to someone treat him like a person and not something that crawled out from the darkest pits of the earth.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm still mad at you for all that. Especially the train. I know he's not likely to do anything, but Sebastian just has this face that's just really…really…" Tempest couldn't think of a good word to describe the butler's usual appearance.

"Lecherous?" Ciel suggested.

"Yes. Quite frankly, I don't want to know what goes inside his head."

"Neither do I, and I've lived with him for over a hundred years."

Tempest clamped her hand over her mouth and looked like she was having trouble holding something back.

"What's wrong?" Ciel suddenly became concerned.

Tempest slowly moved her hand to speak. "It's nothing. I was just trying not to laugh at what you said. You know me and laughing. It's why I generally don't go to movie theaters anymore."

"I see," Ciel smirked. Like father, like daughter.

* * *

Beatrix leaned against her car, idly smoking her cigarette. Undertaker appeared from the distance, but neither Tempest nor Ciel were with him. She threw her cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with her boot. When she looked up again, she noticed that Undertaker had something in his hand, something sharp and deadly.

In the blink of an eye, Undertaker's scythe was at her throat. Beatrix gulped as she stared back into Undertaker's face, though his incredibly long bangs veiled his eyes. His formed a sickening grin, which meant one thing.

"I'm not too worried about Phantomhive around my daughter, but I want to make a _point _with you, Bathory. If I hear that anything's happened to her, you'll once again meet the business end of my scythe. But it'll be for the last time. Understood?"

"Absolutely, sir." William didn't scare her. Her father didn't scare her. Sebastian certainly didn't either. It was Undertaker that made brave Beatrix Bathory quake in her boots. The mental instability of the former grim reaper was enough for Beatrix to agree to anything he said. She wouldn't stand a chance against him.

"Excellent," Undertaker released her, "Give them my best."

"You're leaving already?"

"So many bodies, so little time."


	68. Chapter 65

Upon arrival, Sebastian greeted them first at the door. He whispered something to Ciel and the two of them climbed the stairs and ahead of them. The women left behind heard the library door shut in the nearly empty house as they walked in.

"What was that about?" Tempest asked. Something didn't seem right all of a sudden.

Beatrix shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't seen Sebastian till just now. Maybe he got himself in a spot of trouble."

"I don't know. He's smart enough to avoid it as much as possible. I'm not convinced that's the case."

"Whatever, girly, I think you're just paranoid." Beatrix walked up the stairs and turned left towards her room.

Tempest stayed downstairs even after she heard the library door open again. She wandered into the living where she found a boy sitting on the couch, looking as nervous as could be. She stood still for a minute, not wanting to scare him. He looked positively pale. She edged slowly towards him. The boy nearly jumped out of his skin as she got closer.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm really not that much of a threat to anybody. What to tell me your name?" She smiled.

The blonde boy eased a little. "J-Jacobi." He stammered.

"Well, Jacobi, my name's Tempest. It's nice to meet you."

Jacobi sat silently for the longest moment. His bright eyes studied her.

"Are you a witch?" The question didn't sound all that strange to Tempest, at least not anymore. The answer was, of course, 'no', but it wasn't that far off from the truth.

"No, are you?"

Surprisingly, Jacobi nodded his head.

"Well, this is something new. I've never met a witch before." Tempest eased herself beside him. He shuffled further away, still very frightened.

"Seriously, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know why you're here. Did Sebastian bring you here?"

"_Oui."_

Ciel stormed in the room. At first he seemed frustrated, but when he found Tempest, he calmed down. He seemed to have been doing that a lot lately.

"This is our guest, Tempest. He's a relative of an old friend."

Tempest didn't buy it. She hung around Ciel long enough to know when he was lying. He was keeping something from her. She could it in his eye. Her brow rose skeptically at his answer.

"Who is he, really? And if you don't answer me truthfully, I'll call my dad."

"You wouldn't."

"I would. Behind this frail, composed exterior, Ciel, is a very cunning lady. I may not act like it but when I have an ace in my hand, I'm not afraid to play it. So tell me, who is this kid?"

Ciel sighed. There was no way he could lie to her anymore. It seemed pretty pointless nowadays. The woman easily caught up with all his tricks and knew when he was lying and when he was telling the truth. She really was much smarter than she led on.

"It's all very complicated and I'm not sure how you would feel about the situation at hand."

"I've been chased by demons, man-handled by your butler at least three times, have been made fun of by the ghost of Catherine Howard, and my dad's the most famous grim reaper in the world. What could possibly make me uncomfortable about this _situation at hand_?" Tempest folded her arms across her chest. Her body language and tone of voice were sure signs that she wasn't going let him get away easy. She was dead serious on getting answers out of him, whether Ciel wanted to or not.

"He's the son of a witch here in New York. I wanted a favor from her, but she only wanted her son returned to her for a payment."

"And this favor is?" Tempest continued to pry.

Ciel sighed again. "Can you just trust me? It's rather personal."

Tempest shook her head warily, but made no further objections. "Just this once. Meanwhile, what are you going to do with him?" She pointed towards the boy.

"He's going to stay with us for the time being. Just temporary. I'm sorry for that."

"Don't be. I don't mind kids at all."

Ciel seemed just a little surprised at her response. He'd never seen her around children, so he had no idea how she would react to Jacobi under the same roof.

"You don't?"

"No, contrary to popular belief, I kind of like kids, so he doesn't bother me at all." Tempest rose from the couch. She turned towards Jacobi who still leered at her with obvious scrutiny, even for one who looked younger than Ciel.

She put her hand out towards him. "If you want, I can be your friend while you're here. I know Sebastian and Ciel can be a bit…cynical at times, but you can trust me."

Jacobi stared at her hand. She continued to hold it out expecting him to shake it, but eventually she gave up. Heaving an annoyed and tired sigh, she turned around again. Tempest would have walked away had Jacobi suddenly grabbed hold of her sleeve. His tiny fingers gripped her sleeve with a desperation she never felt from a child before. She looked into his now softened eyes.

"I-I'd like that very much, Mademoiselle."

Tempest took him gently by the hand. "Let's go see what I can make for a snack. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

Ciel watched silently. He never anticipated for Tempest to react to strangely. He had never seen her face to light up like that. Was it because there was new company around or was she really that fond of children? If the day came, would she be that kind and bright with her own children, even they could be his? He quickly shook his head, not because the thoughts were repulsive to him, but because he had to be realistic. There was no guarantee that Tempest would fall head over heels in love with him once his form appeared older. Time would only tell.


	69. Chapter 66

"_Emilie, Emilie." _

_At the sound of her mother's voice, Tempest's eyes shot open. Above her was a sky of silvery-blue with white clouds soaring along, quickly. Her hand went out to her side and skimmed across the soft petal of a flower. Tempest slowly sat up, finding herself in a whole field of flowers. The whiteness of all the Easter lilies surrounding her was nearly blinding. Tempest squinted for a couple of seconds before her eyes adjusted accordingly. She looked down and saw that she was wearing a long black summer dress. Just like the ones her mom used to wear practically all the time even in the winter. _

"_Emilie." Her mom's voice continued to call out. _

_Tempest knew for a fact that this was her mom. There was no one else. It had to be her. She got to her feet, finding them bare, but not concerned around the wet ground. It was a dream after all and her mom was calling beyond the grave. _

"_Mom? Where are you?" _

_There was moment of silence and all Tempest could hear was the wind blowing through the field of Easter lilies. _

"_Follow my voice." _

_Tempest obeyed without hesitation. She blatantly ignored the sense of foreboding inside her gut. What did she have to worry about? _

"_Emilie." Tempest followed the voice of her mom until she came upon a large willow tree. A woman's distinctive silhouette stood behind the shade of the willow's hanging branches. That figure. That familiar, unforgettable figure couldn't have been anyone else. Tempest ran, no, sprinted towards it, not questioning her dream. _

_Tears of joy rolled down her eyes and over her cheeks. She ran until she ran through the curtain of willow branches and silken leaves. Her arms wrapped around the figure and held on to dear life. The body was her mother's. Tempest didn't need to open her eyes to make sure. She could easily tell it was her mom just by holding her. But something felt wrong. Something felt terribly, terribly wrong. The woman snaked her arms around Tempest and returned the embrace, but the arms felt like stone, cold and heavy. Tempest couldn't feel any warmth at all. The body she was hugging felt cold as ice. Tempest moved her arms and let herself fall away in order to get a better look. _

_The face belonged to her mother. The body was hers too and down to even a strand of hair belonged to her mother. But those eyes. The eyes were red as blood, like Sebastian's, only these were a hundred times more terrifying. The woman's pale lips turned up to a cruel smile as she lifted up her hands. Tempest backed away when she saw that the hands were covered in blood. Tempest was frightened that she stumbled backwards into the dirt. _

_As she lay in the grass, Ciel's unmoving form lay beside her. Tempest had no idea when his body was moved or how she avoided seeing it earlier. His blue stared blankly at her, the film of death covering it. Beside was Sebastian and feet away was Beatrix. Each one of them was drenched in their own blood. _

At once, Tempest shot up in bed, panting heavily and sweat running down her whole body. Tossing the covers off of her, she slowly climbed out of bed. She grabbed her bathrobe and made her, still trembling, towards the door. Somehow she managed to navigate to the kitchen. She found the tea sorted neatly in a box and the kettle on the counter by the stove. Pouring the water into the kettle and fixing the heat on the stove top, Tempest eased herself onto a footstool as a temporary chair.

She tried getting the images out of her head, but they proved both persistent and frightening. She'd never been so scared of a nightmare before.

"What are you doing down here?"

Tempest jumped out of the stool, whipping around to find Ciel standing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Don't do that to a girl," her heart started pounding loudly inside her chest again, "you nearly scared me half to death."

"But you're a death god, or least half of one." He pointed out.

"You know what I mean." Tempest snapped.

"Is…everything alright with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Tempest paused before speaking. "I just had a…bad dream. Tea usually helps calms my nerves. Silly isn't it?"

"What is?"

"For a grown woman to be scared witless by a dream."

Ciel shook his head. "I still have nightmares. If a demon like me still has those, there's nothing for you to be ashamed of. What is it about?"

"I dreamt of my mom. Only she wasn't my mom. She was someone else. The body, the face, the hair, they all belonged to my mom, but the eyes were someone else's. And…and then I found your corpses lying around. Covered in blood…."

Tempest gagged and started trembling again. Ciel hesitated, thinking about his next move carefully. He slowly put his arms around her shoulders and nestled her head against his.

"I won't be going anywhere."

* * *

After sharing tea, Ciel guided her back to her room and was about to go back to his own bed when a small hand grabbed his sleeve. Jacobi looked at him in the eyes. It was fairly easy for him too because he was only an inch shorter than Ciel.

"You don't need my mo-, Madame Calico. I know the spell she's using. I may be young, but I know what she's planning to do. I make it for you. Cut out the middle man, as they say."

"You would willingly turn your back on the woman who has raised you?" Ciel watched the young witch pull away from his sleeve.

"I have my reasons, Monsieur. I am under your patronage." Jacobi gave him a quick bow from the waist.

"My patronage, you say," Ciel silently listed the benefits of having a witch under his thumb. Other than the obvious wish to grow older for a certain someone, the boy's powers could be very useful to him. "Don't disappoint me then."

* * *

One author's note, I believe that Beatrix should have a chapter of her own. Two of my OC's got a background, but I think you would benefit from hearing more about her. If you think she should have one, tell me now before I change my mind and if you have any ideas about how it should be done, don't hesitate to tell me so. I've been swamped and now and then my ideas run short and I wouldn't want to disappoint my fans.


	70. Chapter 67

"Jacobi? How are you feeling today?" Tempest found the boy sitting by himself in the empty library, surrounded only by books.

"Just reading." He sat on the floor propped against small sofa.

Tempest eased herself beside him. Jacobi was startled at first. She glanced at the book.

"'Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.' Never pegged Ciel to be a fan of American literature." She joked.  
"I like to read books that take me places."

"Really? Like where?" Tempest liked children. They didn't judge her. For some reason or another, they weren't scared of her like other people. Maybe it was because they were too innocent or maybe they just didn't see her like their older counterparts did.

"Places far away. Madame Calico, she liked to keep me to close to her. Said that the world is dangerous." Jacobi suddenly closed the book and pulled his knees towards his chest. He buried his face.

"What's the matter?" Tempest turned to him.

"I'm scared, Mademoiselle Tempest. I keep thinking that she'll come through that door and take me away. She frightens me." Jacobi mumbled.

Overtaken with pity, Tempest pulled him towards her and rested his head near her heart.

"Nothings gonna harm you, not while I'm around. Nothings gonna harm you, no sir, not while I'm around. Demons are prowlin' every-where nowadays. I'll send 'em howlin'. I don't care. I got ways. No one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna dare. Others can desert you. Not to worry, whistle I'll be there. Demons will charm you with a smile for a while, but in time, no one's gonna harm you. Not while I'm around." She sang softly.

Ciel cleared his throat as he entered. "Enjoying yourselves."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous." Tempest added with a chuckle.

Ciel's face, of course, turned red as a tomato. "T-that's not it at all! Shouldn't you be at rehearsals." He quickly changed the subject.

"They were cancelled for the next couple of days. The director's girlfriend finally had her baby. About time too, we were starting to think about replacing him."

"You can do that?"

"Sure, if the director isn't doing a very good job, we can call in somebody else. It really wasn't that professional of him to be taking phone calls from his girlfriend to begin with any way. Nobody's going to be asking him to direct any more plays for a while." Tempest pulled one of her legs close towards her. "What's up?"

"I was only wondering if you had plans for today." Ciel looked away so she wouldn't see the weird look on his face.

"What?"

* * *

A few moments before…

Ciel spotted Beatrix on the couch in the living room, reading the New York Times.

"She's not out by herself, is she?" Ciel referred to Tempest.

"Nope. Said something about rehearsals being cancelled." She moved the paper so that her just her eyes were showing. "Careful there, Mister Ciel. Your humanity is showing."

"I don't need to take lip from you!" He spun on his heels and began to march angrily out of the room.

"Now would be a good time to get to know her better." Beatrix called out.

Ciel stopped in his tracks.

"You know. Go on an outing. Just you and her. By yourselves. All private like and no Sebastian making you feel embarrassed."

"You're smarter than you look, Bathory." Ciel smirked.

"I'll take that as a compliment from you," Beatrix returned to reading her paper.

She listened to him walk away and sighed with relief. "Maybe now I get a day off."

* * *

Present…

"What?" Tempest couldn't tell if Ciel was being serious. He tended to look away when he became flustered.

"Perhaps you and I should become better acquainted. I know I haven't treated you the best I could. Maybe you could show me around New York." Ciel thought for a brief moment that his heart started beating.

"Me?" Tempest raised her eyebrow.

"Who better to show me New York City than an actual New Yorker?" Ciel turned and gave her a small smile.

Tempest got to her feet, though she was still very confused.

"Um, okay. I'll just…go put on some shoes then." She gave Ciel another weary glance as she lingered in the library's small doorway. Tempest turned around shortly after and walked back to her room.

"How's the spell going along?" Ciel made sure Tempest wasn't in listening range as he spoke.

"You will have it in a week, but I must warn you, forcing your body to age is very painful. The first three are easy, however after that it is quite agonizing. Your body is being forced to go through puberty at a very short rate. Are you still certain you want to go through with this?" Jacobi replaced the book in its designated shelf.

Ciel glanced through the open door towards Tempest's bedroom. He answered with absolute certainty, "Yes."


	71. Chapter 68

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Tempest adjusted her jacket as she waited by the door.

Ciel looked down at his outfit, a dark green suit, his usual attire. Tempest ran back to her room and returned with a designer bag, stuffed to the brim with clothes. She shoved them towards him.

"Put these on. I figured that one of these days we'd be alone together, so I thought that I might as well make you less noticeable."

He grimaced and hesitated to take the bag. The clothes were certainly more modern, but he didn't like change. He especially didn't like change this _drastic. _

"I'm really comfortable with what I'm wearing." He tried pushing the bag back towards Tempest.

She sighed, annoyed, and held the bag out to him. "I hate to tell you this, but you stick out like sore thumb. The eye patch is one thing and the Victorian ensemble is cute, but you stick out. Please put these clothes on. For me."

_What's happened to me?_ Ciel thought as he reluctantly took the bag into his room. He dumped the contents and sorted out the simplest ones. A rap on the door startled him.

"What!" He snapped.

"Do you require any assistance, sir?" Sebastian's voice asked through the door.

The last thing Ciel wanted was for even Sebastian to see him like this. A couple of months ago, before he ever set foot inside the Ravencraft Theater, he'd never been reduced to _this,_ answering a lady's every wish. It was almost as bad as with Elizabeth. At least Tempest didn't throw childish fits when she didn't get her way. She was an adult. Still, the fact that she had only to say the words 'for me' and Ciel was changing into clothes he once vowed never to wear.

"I don't need help. Just…just go away for now." He'd never been so flustered either.

"As you wish, sir," a slight undertone of amusement rang in his voice. Ciel heard the butler's footsteps and returned to the task at hand.

"He's not going to come down here." Beatrix leaned against the wall. "He's got too much pride. Not to mention he's awfully stuffy. There's no way you got him to wear the stuff you bought."

"He will if he wants to hang out. Ciel will be down here any second."

Beatrix chuckled. "Right. And I'm the bloody queen of England."

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," Ciel stood at the top of the stairs.

Beatrix was so surprised that she took off her glasses and cleaned them thoroughly. She rubbed her eyes before putting them on again. She still couldn't believe what she was seeing. Ciel came slowly down the grand staircase, no longer in his usual clothes. Tennis shoes, dark semi-baggy jeans, a black polo shirt and a jacket, not quite what he was used to.

"Told you so," Tempest opened the door. "Hurry up, we're going to miss the bus."

"The bus?" Ciel asked skeptically.

"Well, we're certainly not taking a limo. It'll take forever to drive through the city, not to mention we'll be too noticeable."

"B-but.."

"Butts are for sitting. Now come on." Ciel suddenly was grabbed hold of and forced through the door. He never stood a chance.

Once the front door was firmly slammed shut behind them, Beatrix couldn't control herself a second longer. She burst out laughing until tears ran down her eyes.

"Oh my god, this is hilarious." She exclaimed.

"And what is so humorous." Asked Sebastian.

Beatrix wiped away the tears with the cuff of her sleeve. "He's totally her bitch."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He practically does whatever she asks of him. That's what's so funny."

"Indeed. I'd never thought I'd see the day that he'd so _accommodating_." Sebastian admitted.

"You know, now that we're by ourselves mostly, save that kid, there's been something I've been meaning to tell you," she dried her face and turned to him.

"And what's that?" Sebastian answered in a bored tone.

"My car. The back still has that demon's imprint on it. I have to tell people that I parked outside a jumper's building. What do you plan on doing about it?" She glared at him.

"I'll bring it up with the young master once he returns home." Sebastian turned on his heels and began walking down the hallway.

Beatrix, however, jumped in front of him, blocking his way.

"Oh no, no, butler boy. You're going to do something about my car,_ now._ For Tempest's sake, I've been really nice, but your bull shit and pompous attitude is starting to really get on my nerves. Now, what are you going to do about my car?"

Sebastian inhaled deeply and gave her one of his closed-eyed smiles. "Miss Bathory, I don't think you want to get into a fight with me. Not now, not ever."

"Tch," with previously unknown strength and speed, Beatrix had him pinned to the wall next to them. She moved her head in so close to his face their noses touched.

"I think it's fair to say I'd beat you, hands down. I'm not some simple little grim reaper girl. I know how to fight. I clawed my way to the top. You know how many dispatch officers that are women, even nowadays? My father, the womanizing prick, always said that I'd be better off in the office, always under the thumb of a man. But you see I don't play that way. I didn't listen to him when I started working up the ladder to dispatch. I had to fight to get where I was and even though I wasn't happy there, I could at least get the satisfaction of knowing that I beat every man in the way of my position. And I'll be damned before I let a man, death god, demon, or otherwise, get the better of me."

"And here I thought you were playing games with me." Sebastian chuckled.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Sebastian slowly opened his eyes, revealing the new glowing magenta orbs.

"You seemed like such a refreshing breath compared to other women. Had I realized that pushing your buttons would show this side of you, I would've tried to doing it earlier." Sebastian smirked. "You've been keeping your cool, as you say, for the sake of Tempest. I assume you consider her a friend, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then seeing this side of you would surely frighten her away. Is that what you think?"

Beatrix forced her forearm against his throat. Sebastian choked a little but remained perfectly calm.

"You're a masochist, aren't you, Sebastian? You don't seem to mind being pinned to the wall by a woman and if memory serves me correctly, you were speechless on that train. That day when we first met. In fact, I'd say it kind of turns you on." Beatrix gritted through her teeth. At the moment, she couldn't tell if Sebastian was toying with her or if he made it his new hobby to tick her off.

"And if your assumptions are correct, what will you do about?"

"My room or yours?"

Sebastian wasn't the least bit surprised at Beatrix's response. He looked taken aback for a moment but then smirked. "Whichever you prefer."

"And then we go back to hating each other's guts right?" Beatrix asked skeptically.

"Absolutely," his gloved fingers seized hold on her loose hair, pulling their faces together until their lips clashed.

Beatrix parted from the kiss for a brief second. "This is a onetime deal, remember."

* * *

I'm sorry I had to. I just had to. You may hate, but that's ok with me. I've been keeping this idea in the back of my head for a while.


	72. Chapter 69

Ciel frowned deeply. Not only had he been forced into unfamiliar clothes and pulled rather forcibly into a crowded bus, he felt increasingly claustrophobic. Men, women, and children were crammed into such a small space, but none of them seemed to mind. Nothing bothered them. They stood side by side or next to one another, smashing and crashing against the other as the bus moved and made its scheduled stops. A few murmured a 'sorry' or an 'excuse me,' but their bizarre behavior made no sense to him. Perhaps they spent so many years packed in like sardines in a tiny can that this seemed like nothing. New York City itself didn't take much land. When they ran out of room, they just built up.

Tempest seemed to feel right at home. She stood up with some of the others, grabbing onto a pole. Ciel sat in a seat, squeezed uncomfortably between an elderly woman and a rugged looking African-American with dingy dread-locks pulled into a pony-tail. To Ciel's annoyance, he played his music loudly. Even the sound of the other passengers couldn't drown out that dreadful noise some people of lower tastes called music.

Tempest pulled on the cord above his head. The bus's bell chime and the light on the interior sign which read, 'stop requested,' blinked on. She grabbed Ciel's arm again, but guided him off the bus. She pulled him off to the side to her side and pointed towards a large vintage theater.

"That's the Old Milton Theater House." They began walking towards it. "This is where I played while I was in college. They've shut it down since then. Shame."

They stopped in front, facing the boarded up windows and chained glass doors. A dirty white taped to the inside read "No trespassing" in red paint. However, it was obvious that trespassers did not obey the sign. On the concrete ground in front of the main doors lay shards of broken glass, evidence that someone had been on the inside rather than break the door from the outside. If they vandals had been on the outside, the glass would have been laying on the gold colored carpet on the inside. Even from where he stood, Ciel could see through that the long-neglected windows were covered in a film of slime, dust, and dirt.

"Why did they do that?"

Tempest shrugged. "Mice. They couldn't find out where they were coming from and there were too many of them. It had to be condemned."

They moved along. They headed south towards a coffee shop where, according to Tempest, her mom worked part time. Stepping in, one of the waitresses looked up. She blinked several times before rushing over to them before they could even figure out where they wanted to sit.

"Emilie? I-I haven't seen you in six years." The woman adjusted her thick frames and ran her hand through the greying hairs of her head. "How are you kiddo?" She was nervous to say the least.

"I'm fine. My usual table, if you please." Tempest asked sweetly.

"Right this way, then." The waitress, who was obviously familiar with the other, scurried over to a cozy corner in the café. The table in question was situated in a neat little corner, well secluded from the rest.

"Take your time," she smiled before she scurried away somewhere else.

"Do you know her?" Ciel glanced at the waitress who was now taking orders from another table.

"She worked with my mom. Her name's Ronda." Tempest picked up two menus, handing one to Ciel.

"I see. She seemed a little…nervous. Whatever for?" Ciel took the menu and combed over it for what the establishment had to offer.

"Probably I remind her of my mom. I came here every day when she worked here. That's I called this my usual table. I could order coffee or dessert and read quietly until my mom's shift ended. Then we'd go home together," Tempest ended there with a sigh.

Ciel didn't say a word or even glance up from his menu. Rather, he hid behind it, thinking to himself.

"Do you miss her? Your mother?"

"Yes, yes, I do. There are days where I wish she'd never made that contract with Damon. There are days when I wish I was blind again; even it meant giving up all that I've worked for just to bring her back." She breathed in heavily and sighed again. "But what's done is done. I can't change the past."

They were left alone in silence.

Ronda the waitress came by again, pen and pad ready to jot done what they wanted.

Tempest looked away from her menu. "We'll need a couple more minutes, if you don't mind."

"Alrighty." Ronda went away again, tucking her pad and pen into her apron.

"I knew that I would make you upset, I wouldn't have asked that question." Ciel finally spoke.

Tempest pushed the menu away from his face. She gave him a small smile. "Don't be. I've long since accepted it. But there are a few good things that came out it."

"Like what?" Ciel jokingly scoffed.

"If Damon never became attached to me in the first place, you wouldn't have been so determined to keep me safe and without you I wouldn't have been able to meet my own dad. Not to mention Beatrix is pretty my best friend now, though she's a little odd, even by my standards." Tempest smirked.

"That is bad. She's odd to _you_. Compared to everyone else, anyone you've met must seem normal."

Tempest picked up the menu again. "You want to split a cheesecake. I'm not in the mood for a coffee right now."

"Sure."

Ronda returned for the third time as if on cue. Tempest handed over the menus.

"Your largest piece of strawberry cheesecake and two glasses of water, please, Ronda."

Ronda looked up as she wrote the orders. "So who's the kid?" She pointed with her pen.

Annoyed, Ciel flinched. His smirk turned into a grimace and he failed at hiding it completely.

"I'm his baby-sitter. One of my neighbors went out of town and asked me to watch him for the rest of the day. Neither one of us wanted to sit around the house all day, so here we are." Tempest easily covered for them both.

Ronda's face scrunched in confusion. "I heard that your apartment went up in flames nearly two months ago?"

"I moved to a new one. It's small, but it'll do. I'm watching this guy for a little extra cash to pay for the rent." Tempest didn't even hesitate in her string of lies. In fact, it almost seemed to come naturally for her.

"Let me know if you ever need anything, kiddo," Ronda stuffed the pad back into her apron, "And I mean _anything._ Don't you think I'm going to forget you, darlin'."

Tempest shook her head. "I'm fine. Really."

Ronda went away again, smiling bitter-sweetly.

"You're a good liar." Ciel complemented.

Tempest relaxed in her chair. "What is acting if not a fancier word for lying? You get on a stage and lie to an entire audience. You're a complete stranger to those observers and you live in a world that does not exist off stage. You make the audience believe what you want to believe and you have to be good at it if you want them to believe you. There's no room for bad actors in my line of work."

"Why did you choose acting to begin with? You have an excellent voice. You could have easily become a singer." Ciel rested his chin on his hand.

"It's all very complicated."

Ciel leaned forward in the leather encased chair. "Try me. I might have seen worse. You do keep forgetting that I'm over a hundred years old."

Tempest stared blankly at the tablecloth. Her fingers picked at the hem of it. She chewed her lip nervously and her eyes said that she was trying to find the right words to explain her answer. After the longest time, she took a deep breath. Lifting her head up, she looked at Ciel in the eye.

"For the longest time, I lived in the shadows. Color and vague shapes meant nothing to me. Music is good. I still love music. But visual art, that's what I wanted most in life. You can describe in detail the art of Da Vinci or Monet. You can put words on paper describing the world's most famous paintings, sculptures, and architecture, but in reality it fails miserably. The first time I saw the Statue of Liberty was when I was seventeen years old. I lived in New York City my entire life, and I never saw it until then. Acting is a visual art. More importantly, I can be whoever I want to be on stage. I can escape my life, even if it's just for a little while, and be someone else. Someone different and new."

"Tempest, I…" Ronda placed a highly decorated platter with the cheesecake, dripping in strawberry sauce and the fruit thereof, between them.

She placed two glasses of water and forks for the cheesecake. She smiled, genuinely, and said, "Enjoy," before scurrying off for the umpteenth time.

"You were saying," Tempest picked up her fork and stabbed a strawberry through the prongs.

"I never knew you felt that way," Ciel picked up his own fork.

Tempest had already popped the strawberry into her mouth. She shifted it to the other cheek.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," she chewed on the strawberry for a while and swallowed.

"Like what," Ciel sliced his own piece and held it to his mouth for a brief second as he spoke and put it inside his mouth.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She winked.


	73. Chapter 70

The glass door closed behind them, the silver bell hanging above the door rang as they left.

"How exactly do you know this area so well?" Asked Ciel.

Tempest shook her head lightly, laughing to herself. "I should know this place. This is my old neighborhood."

"You hardly talk about it."

"Not all memories are happy ones." Tempest started walking ahead of him. "But anyways, I know this place like the back of my hand. I could show you my old house blind-folded. In fact," she removed her scarf from around her neck and began tying it behind her head, over her eyes.

"Just what are you trying to prove?" Ciel couldn't help but sound worried. Perhaps insanity ran in the family. Her father was obviously to blame.

"Calm down, will you? Everything's going to be fine. Like I said, I could walk around here blindfolded and still walk completely unharmed. Just stick behind me and don't wander off."

"You act like I'm silly child who gets lost easily…"

"Sorry." She took a hesitant step forward, her brain accommodating for her sudden lack of eyesight. "Now, if I'm correct, there should be a mailbox about five or six steps away."

They walked slowly and lo, and behold six and a half steps later, her hand grazed against the smooth top of the metal bin.

"A little further should be a cross-walk…"

As soon as she mentioned cross-walk, Ciel tensed just a little. There was only some much he might be able to prevent.

"You've proved your point. You can take your scarf off now."

Tempest ignored him and stood at the edge of the sidewalk. As if her hearing doubled in strength, a car ran past her although she nearly took a step forward. She withdrew her foot before the car approached.

"Could you please take off that scarf!"

"Not yet." Tempest waved off his concern. "Just wait."

They crossed the street and then another. Each time Ciel tensed and made his complaints well known. He raised his voice at her above the sound of the passing crowds, but she proved more stubborn than he originally believed. He chased behind her. Well, she did prove that she knew her neighborhood like the back of her hand. She indeed could walk around blindfolded. Still, despite her confidence, Ciel worried. Tempest walked around with the scarf around her eyes, counting under her breath and then stopped to lightly touch a 'landmark' such as a lamppost or a fire hydrant.

"One…two…three…four…five…"

"You're making me nervous."

She stopped walking mid-step. "Patience is a virtue. Six…seven…eight…nine…ten…"

After a few more steps, she took four steps to her right; her hand reached out and touched the corner stone of a cement stairway leading to an apartment building. Tempest reached behind her head and untied the knot in the scarf. As the fabric was lifted away from her eyes, she squinted so that her eyes would adjust to the sunlight again. Not to her surprise, she faced that familiar red brick apartment building. Right down to the cracks on the stoop's steps and the missing window pane in the glass and metal framed door, nothing changed in the last six years.

"Hasn't changed much." She went silent. Tempest's mind went elsewhere as she looked upon her old home. Her emotions suddenly became too hard for even Ciel to read. She seemed caught between sadness and something that couldn't be precisely described in words.

"Do you miss this place?"

Tempest remained silent for a while longer. She sighed and answered. "Not really."

"You don't miss the home where you grew up?"

"Not when there are so many bad memories overshadowing the good ones."

Ciel suddenly grabbed her hand and gently pulled her away from the site. She looked over her shoulder for a while before turning her head forward.

* * *

"Now, it's my turn to show you something."

"Can I look now?" Tempest groped around the walls, her scarf once more tied behind her head.

"Patience is a virtue." He repeated this motto she said earlier.

One of Tempest's hands grabbed onto his sleeve as he led her down a steep stairway. Where she was remained a mystery. Not long after briefly visiting the old apartment, Ciel hailed a taxi and then asked her to put her scarf back over her eyes. Saying that it was a surprise, she trusted him. To an extent.

She was led up a smaller fleet of stairs and felt like she stood on a platform. The sound of hard wood clattering against her shoes bounced off the spacious area they, she and Ciel, stood in the midst of. She breathed in a good, long whiff, taking in as much as she physically could. The air smelled so familiar. Like a familiar perfume or the smell of one's apartment. Something that would automatically click in someone's brain. The air smelt of must, old velvet, wood, and some other smells she could recognize but not quite put a name on. She felt upon her skin the warm touch of an overhead light, but nothing like a floor lamp. This light burned much brighter and from a much higher angle. In listening, she heard the faint hum of electric lights above her head.

Without being instructed, Tempest reached for the knot at the back of her head and loosened the scarf. The lightweight fabric fell away from her face. Her eyes bulged at the sight of thousands of empty theater chairs before her. She turned about on her heels to find massive, burgundy curtains pulled back, revealing an array of painted scenery screens hanging lazily from their metal beams, props of all sorts for any kind of production, and other equipment. There even lay an antique looking trunk overflowing with costumes. In her own previous experiences, she guessed someone must have sat on the top just to get the trunk to close, if not all the way, but closed enough so that the contents wouldn't be falling everywhere. What couldn't be stuffed unceremoniously in there was hung up on what looked like a bell hop's luggage cart. But this wasn't a theater she'd ever worked in. She was familiar with most of the underground or community theaters. This one, though big and looked very expensive in construction and operation, brought nothing back to memory.

"Ciel," Tempest turned this way and that, but didn't find him. She looked frantically for only a second or two before finding him in the middle of the front row, seated directly facing the stage. He was leaning back in the seat, leisurely. She'd never seen him relax, especially not around her.

"What do you think? You're the actress. Would you perform here?" Ciel's voice bounced off the decorative walls. The theater itself was lit by an electric chandelier and immediately Phantom of the Opera popped inside her head.

"Depends on what the theater is." She answered as she looked about her surroundings from the stage.

"The Phantom House." Ciel smirked.

Tempest's brows furrowed. How did he…Then she chuckled, waging her head, and putting her hand to her forehead.

"Phantom House, _Phantomhive_. I should have known."

"I am the sole owner and proprietor of this establishment. I control everything that goes on under this roof. A little side project of mine. What do you think?" Ciel explained with pride.

Tempest was still a more than a _little _surprised. He of all people wanted her opinion.

"Well, um, it's certainly big. It looks like you have nice sound. I don't have to put in much effort to project."

"Sing."

"What?"

"Sing. If you say there's no problem with projection and sound, then demonstrate. I want to test the sound system," Ciel partially lied. He had Sebastian oversee the sound systems himself. So far, there wasn't a problem. He mostly just wanted to hear her voice.

"Any requests?" Tempest removed her jacket and purse. Having flung them to the very end of the stage, she returned to the middle of it.

He pretended to think for a moment. "Lady's choice."

"Alright," she cleared her throat, "_Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned. Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind. Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade. They have their season, so do we. But please promise me that sometimes you will think of me…"_

Ciel couldn't help but stare at her as she sang. The lyrics seemed to fall off her lips like rose petals. Then again, he may just have been feeling too poetic. He felt this familiar and intense burning sensation erupting from his chest. His mind went to that first night, the first time he'd ever even laid eyes on her or hear her voice. He couldn't look away even as he eye turned to that dreaded shade of magenta. Quickly placing his hand over it, Ciel tried not to let Tempest see it. It was even harder to do considering that she look right at him. A surge of unnatural desire flooded through him all at once. He remembered that day on his private island when she wore that bathing suit. This sensation swam through him. Ciel wasn't entirely sure if he could control it.

_Not now, not now of all times_! He cursed and swore at his own weakness. _She's just getting used to me._

All the while he fought the urge to jump up onto to the stage and tackle her. She would probably beg him to stop, however a fearful thought lingered inside his brain and it warned him that he might have the decency to do that. His body remained a child forever, at least for a little while longer, but his feelings, right at this moment, were purely adult. If something didn't distract him, he feared for the worst. Tempest would hate him all over again.

Then, his prayers were answered, but not to his liking. His eye snapped open and instantly went for the corner of the theater that was darkened with shadows. He never heard a sound, not so much as a squeaking door or the lightest footstep. But they weren't alone anymore. Something came in there unannounced. Something dark and powerful. Ciel stood up from his seat. Tempest stopped singing and followed him with her eyes. He turned towards the source of the sudden power, feeling that the air had changed dramatically. A freezing-cold chill ran across his bones, a hateful, revenge-seeking, blood-curdling chill that whispered only of malice and ill-tidings. In a flash it was gone, disappearing like the Ghost of Christmas Past.

"Ciel? What's going on?" Tempest must have felt the abrupt change in the atmosphere. She too grew closer to the area where whoever or whatever hid in the shadows.

Metal scraped above her head. Ciel turned his eye towards the sound. A hinge snapped and a light fixture came speedily hurdling towards Tempest's unprotected head. A human could never reach her in time. For once, Ciel was grateful he was no longer mortal. He raced over there just before the fixture could crash upon her head. The stage went dim with one less fixture in place over the stage. The bulb was smashed to a million, uncountable, unfixable shards. The black-painted steel body of the fixture crumbled upon its own impact. Tempest's frightened eyes looked up from where the object fell and where it lay now, on the very spot where she had been standing. She'd been so distracted by that strange presence that she never heard or even bothered to look up. If Ciel hadn't been there, she would need an ambulance right about now.

She was lying on her side with Ciel shielding her head with his body. Her ear was firmly pressed against his chest and his arm covered her eyes so glass wouldn't fly into them. Tempest listened closely, but found nothing. She suspected that his heart didn't beat, though she never had the opportunity to ask.

Ciel stirred, uninjured from crash to the floor. He hugged her tightly, unsure of what to do now. Something was in there with them. _This _was no accident. Whoever, or more than likely whatever, used some kind of power to make the light fixture break away from its firm setting and nearly fall on Tempest's head. The steel was reinforced and welded in place. It would take a massive earthquake to shake apart the fixtures. The threat was seemingly gone.

"Let's get you out of here," he pulled off the floor. Ciel grabbed her things and handed them to her as they swiftly left the theater. He locked and sealed the main entrance, all the while keeping his peripheral view on Tempest. If somebody tried to hurt her while she was with him, there was no telling what they would do out in public. They were bold, he gave them credit for that.


	74. Chapter 71

Tempest removed her coat and strung it up on the nearby coat hanger, nervously waiting to ask her question. Even for Ciel, his behavior was most irregular. Something was definetly in that theatre with them. She could tell. She'd grown used to her powers and her senses heightened. Tempest knew something tried to hurt her, but she wanted to hear it from Ciel's mouth. If he was withholding information, he'd better tell her know or face the consequences. Tempest was very capable of holding a grudge.

"Ciel, what went on in there? The theater? You and I both know that somebody made the lamp fall and you can't lie to me. That was no accident." She glanced over her shoulder. Ciel stiffened. "You'd tell me if I was in danger, wouldn't you?"

He seemed off in his own world for a moment. Ciel heaved a sad sigh before answering. "The thing is…you'll always be in danger. You're a supernatural oxymoron. Nobody knows for sure what you might be capable of. Some might try to destroy you; others would try to take advantage of your powers, whatever they may be. There may never be a time when you're perfectly safe. But know this…"

Ciel went around her front to face her. "Know that as long as you are under my care, no one will lay a finger on you."

Tempest was taken aback by his chivalric words. He was always serious, but she'd never seen him like this. He looked sincere, not trying to play with her emotions. To be honest, the memory of the old him slowly faded away with time. It had been so long since he tried to eat her soul that it almost felt that it had been another demon entirely. Something was changing and it was for the better. She might have concluded that she was the cause of his sudden change in personality, though there were many, many aspects of his darker self still present. But, she didn't want to put her feelings on the line. Instead, she merely thought that a friend was all he really needed. Being stuck with a butler for over a hundred would certainly make someone bitter about their life on earth.

"T-thank you," Tempest stared at his face, particularly in the eye. She'd never seen an honest face from him. He'd usually tell her some half-truth or hide behind a mask of indifference. He was actually showing emotion, actual human emotion! Looked down to her right side when she felt a small amount of pressure against her arm. Ciel had placed his hand softly on her forearm between the elbow and wrist.

"Nothing is going to harm you, not while I'm around."

He didn't sing it, but the words were meant to mean the same emotions. Tempest could feel her cheeks flush with color. Her brain and heart were speaking two different languages. Perhaps these feelings that were building up were on the brink overflowing. This could never feel right. The world outside would never know it, however she would. If she fell in love with Ciel, here and now, just as he was, she'd hate herself. No laws could touch her when they could not see, but Tempest would always feel this black, ugly cesspit in the bottom of her soul. It would feel wrong. Whether there was some possibility that he could age, then there might be hope. However, as of right now, walking away for now seemed like a good idea. She slowly did so, but not without looking back just once. Tempest stood at the top of the grand staircase, looking down towards him. He struggled slightly to give her a genuine smile. Whatever sins or evils happened in his previous life, it was holding him back.

Reluctantly, Tempest tore herself away from the staircase, fleeing to the sanctuary of her room. The door was closed firmly behind her and the locked turned for privacy. All of a sudden, Tempest realized that her legs were shaking beneath her. She felt so conflicted, so distraught that her body responded accordingly. The weight of her body crushed the support of her legs. She slid down the door like lead, crumbling to the floor easily. There were no tears. Only confusion.

"Why must you make things difficult?" She mumbled as her hands buried her face.

Remaining there for several minutes, just long enough for her legs to stop convulsing, she gathered herself up. To have an emotional break-down of all times, three days before an opening night, after weeks of rehearsals, she'd never be able to play her role properly. Her emotions would eat her from the inside out. At least, she could deal with them after Sweeny Todd was over and done with.

She got up to her feet, stretching her arms and back. The air smelled strange, yet oddly familiar. She took a good look around, and then started to take notice of a few things that seemed out of place. A person who was fairly perceptive could easily notice that some of her things were out of place or other rearranged. The bed, for example, was made the way she usually did it. The corners were unusually folded neatly, as if a certain butler made her bed. She specifically told him not to, referring to her need for independence and the classic reason of being too old to have someone else clean up after her. Ciel even backed up, ordering Sebastian not to do it unless she specially asked. Why, then, did her bed look like a housekeeper fixed it both without her knowledge or consent? Then of course there was the window with it opened just less than an inch. Somebody had been missing around in there. She could feel it.

The scent grew stronger the closer she got to the bed. Soon, Tempest was overcome by the smell of cigarettes. There was even a small scorch mark on the light wood bedside table where a person must have tried to snuff out a cigarette by mistake. The puzzle became more confusing. The clues pointed to just one conclusion, however the conclusion was illogical. This only proved that this needed more investigating. Digging through her trash bin, she found no evidence of a cigarette. This small mystery seemed unsolvable and she was about to call Ciel in for some help when a piece of fabric she hadn't noticed before caught her attention. A stark red piece of fabric peeked through white, flouncy bed skirts. Cautiously, she picked it up like she would with any other scrap fabric found on the floor and laid it out on the mattress.

This was not fabric. This was evidence of a particular _activity_ that was performed, hopefully, by mistake in her room. Tempest, rather than automatically fly into seething rage, went to her door, unlocked knob, and opened the door. She walked briskly to Beatrix's room, knocking politely. The grim reaper answered the door, dressed in a black tank top and torn jeans. It wouldn't have been so strange for home wear had it not been for the scarf about her neck. Tempest inhaled sharply and grinned.

"What's with you?" Beatrix asked. She didn't know what Tempest knew.

"Would you come with me for a minute?" Tempest gritted her teeth, her smile only a mask for her true emotion.

Beatrix flinched for just a second, but followed her anyway. Tempest led Beatrix to the bed. The elder grim reaper reluctantly stood beside the bed, shifting around her feet. Her green eyes tried to avoid the garment spread out on the bed. However, by turning away in such a conspicuous manner only further proved her guilt.

"Do you know who _these_ belong to?" Tempest pointed an inquisitive finger towards the undergarments. "Because I _don't _wear boy-shorts. These aren't mine and there's nobody else in this house that wears them."

Beatrix raised her hands in defense. "I didn't do it on purpose. It happened all so very fast, at first…"

Tempest began stalking towards her as if she was a hungry tiger on the fresh scent of a kill. "_What did you do?"_

"You can't get mad at me…" Beatrix backed away though it did little good.

"_What _did you do?" She repeated. Her face had given up the false smile. Her brows were furrowed, her mouth was drawn into an angry frown, her eyes became a shade darker.

"You can't be mad at me."

"Fine. I won't be mad at you."

"I…had some company…of the male persuasion…in this room," Beatrix panicked when Tempest started to growl, "Which I mistook for mine. I-I mean it's a common mistake when you're getting hot and heavy with a really good lookin' guy. It sort of happened…and I didn't notice until I tried to put out a cigarette on an ash tray that…wasn't…there."

Tempest's eyes flew wide for a moment. She covered them with her hand, hanging her head low. No words came out of her. Beatrix froze where she stood, not completely sure about what would happen in the next five minutes. Tempest remained, for what felt like hours, in silence.

"Let me understand you correctly, you brought someone over, and then you proceeded to have sex with them, but you didn't realize that you did _it_ in _my_ bed until you tried to put out your cigarette?"

"Yes."

Tempest raised her head and stomped her way to Beatrix, who began retreating again.

"You had sex in_ my_ bed! You slept with a guy in _my_ bed! How in the blood-soaked, fiery Hell do you mistake someone else's bed for yours and have sex there? Just tell me! What are the chances? I don't even have sex in my bed!" Tempest screamed at the top of her lungs.

Tempest brushed past Beatrix, who was expecting a punch or some kind of physical retaliation for her dreadful mistake.

"Um…where are you going exactly?" Beatrix followed her shortly behind.

"I'm telling on you!"

Beatrix thought that those words were scary only when you're a kid. Apparently, she was wrong.


	75. Chapter 72

Both women charged for the library and when Ciel couldn't be found there, they sprinted down the stairs.

"Let's be reasonable. It was an honest mistake!" Beatrix shouted after her much younger friend.

"What's reasonable is telling on you! You just don't do that to a friend's bed. It's gross!" Tempest easily managed to stay in front of her pursuer.

"I'll buy you a new mattress. Promise!" Beatrix whined.

Tempest went silent. Each of them heard Ciel's voice coming from the dining room. They looked at each other for a second and then sprinted like a pair of greyhounds on a race track. Beatrix had more to lose. Ciel would think that she brought home a complete stranger and endangered them all. That conclusion would lead to her defending herself by speaking honestly and saying that she had been with Sebastian and the whole thing could blow up in her face. They weren't supposed to like each other! She did at first until she discovered that Sebastian was no better than William T. Speares. His only trait she liked about him was that he wasn't as prudent as her former boss. At least Sebastian knew his way around the bedroom. William, on the other hand, was questionable in the matters of romance. There was once a pool among the office workers whether or not he was still a virgin. But that didn't matter now! She'd rather die than let Ciel or anybody know her dirty little secret.

Tempest reached the door first, but Beatrix grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. They both fell backwards, Tempest landing on top of her. The younger strove to get back to her feet, but the elder grabbed hold of her ankle. Getting sick of the whole situation, Tempest did the only thing she could think of.

"Sorry about this, but you leave me no choice," her free foot came down on Beatrix's nose pretty hard. Granted, not enough to make her bleed, however it was just enough to make the grim reaper let go and tend to her own injury.

Newly freed, Tempest dashed through the door and found the man she was looking for. Ciel and Sebastian were talking together about something, but were drawn to Tempest's sudden outburst.

"You won't believe what Beatrix did in my bed this afternoon!" Beatrix's hand clamped onto Tempest's mouth.

"Don't mind her. I think it's that time of month. Ow!"

Tempest stomped on Beatrix foot, the heel digging painfully through even the tough leather of the other's boot. The grim reaper reluctantly backed away, hopping on one foot and grumbled loudly in pain.

"Like I was saying…do you have any idea what she did this afternoon in _my_ bed?"

Ciel sighed, rather annoyed at all the noise those two were creating. He had patience for Tempest, but too much rough housing would eventually give him a headache.

"Calm down, please. There's no need to shout." He said calmly. "What is going on?"

"She had sex in my bed! That's my problem. I went into my room and evidence of a certain _activity_ having taken place in my bed. It's repulsive, degrading, heave-worthy, disrespectful, foul, gross, disturbing…"

"I-I get it." Ciel stumbled over his words slightly. He turned his attention to Beatrix. This was the final straw. He glared at her. She actually brought some strange man to his home, without his knowledge no less, and corrupted the safety of those under his protection. What was she thinking?

"Are you insane? Have you any idea what you have done? _She _is under my care and you brought home some man. I might forgive using her bed for your _flings_ but you let someone in without telling me beforehand! Do you realize that you could put Tempest in danger?"

"I didn't because it was an inside job!" Beatrix shouted and pointed an angry and accusing finger towards Sebastian.

Tempest looked at the butler and her eyes went wide a split second. The bed making suddenly made perfect sense. She repressed her gag reflexes.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tempest dry heaved into her mouth.

Ciel froze for a moment, trying to make sense of the situation. He turned to Beatrix, who still held out her index finger across the dining hall and then at Sebastian. The butler seemed surprisingly startled at Beatrix's accusation. There was no way deny it either. It was a lose-lose situation. If he denied it, he would be punished for allowing Beatrix let a stranger in the house. Not to mention, he was looking forward on going back on his word and toying with her more in the future and if she was sent away as punishment, he'd be bored again. And there was the little piece of the contract that could never be broken. He couldn't tell a lie, ever. If he told the truth, he'd still be punished for soiling Tempest's bed and making her upset.

"Sebastian, is this true?" Although Ciel knew the answer.

"Yes, my lord."

Later that evening

Ciel gave each of the perpetrators a stern talking to. It wasn't the fact that they copulated at all, it was where they did it that made him upset. It upset him because it clearly distraught Tempest. She refused to eat dinner with them because Beatrix usually sat across from her. She ate by herself in the living room, returning the dishes to the kitchen herself. Tempest also refused to look either one of them in the face. When Beatrix tried to apologize, she was instantly snubbed.

Where Tempest slept was a mystery. Ciel dismissed Sebastian early. He spent the night reading at his bed and it wasn't until midnight when he heard the downstairs television turn on with his superior hearing. He donned his bathrobe and went out to find the source of the noise. He found Tempest still very much awake and lying on the couch, a blanket stretched over her. In her hand, she lazily held the remote control and flipped through channels with a bored look on her face.

"What are you doing?" Asked Ciel. He found her behavior rather upsetting. Surely she couldn't be upset over this whole thing still? What Beatrix and Sebastian did was disgusting, but not unforgivable.

"I couldn't sleep," she mumbled.

Ciel came closer and noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She must have been tossing and turning for some time, either that or she hadn't been sleeping well the past few nights.

"You can't be getting a lot of sleep on the couch." He pointed out.

"I don't want to sleep in my bed."

"Understandable."

Tempest looked up at him. "Then where else I am going to sleep?" She sounded irritable from the obvious lack of sleep and the day's events.

Ciel held out his hand. "Come with me."

Tempest turned off the T.V and took his hand. The blanket she wrapped around her shoulders. She yawned as they climbed up the stairs. She stumbled a little going up, but Ciel was strong enough to keep her erect and off the floor. He opened the door to her room, then she hesitated.

"You need to sleep. This is the only bed at the moment that you'll probably want to sleep in. I won't do anything to you, I promise."

Tempest wearily took him at his word and made her way across the room. Without further ado, she let the blanket fall to the floor as she reached for the ones on the bed. She curled underneath the sheets and started to relax. Her eyes slowly closed shut as she drifted off into real sleep. Ciel crawled in on the other side being careful not to get too close. He reached out his hand and pulled the lamp's cord until the light went out completely. In the darkness, he found her resting deeply and easily in his bed, which he found surprising. Then he found himself doing something he shouldn't have.

He stared at her face. He had long removed his eye patch and was finally able to see her properly. His eyes lingered there, and then trailed down her silhouetted form hidden beneath the sheets. Subconsciously, he wet his lips and leaned forward just a little. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea after all?

His chest hurt so much that he clutched his heart. The blood in his veins felt like lava throughout his body. His breathing became uncontrolled. The shadow of his body hovered over her body in the pale moonlight seeping through the cracks of the curtains. She was within his reach, yet by some miracle he held himself at bay. He retreated to his side of the bed with his back towards her. Sleep didn't come easy, not by a long shot. His hands became knotted in the sheets with the stress building up inside. When he finally fell asleep, it was four in the morning.


	76. Chapter 73

Tempest grimaced at the outpouring of sunlight. She shut her eyes and then opened them fully, still squinting though. The blankets were tossed away from her. Her fingers ran through her unbrushed mess of hair. With lethargic gait, she exited the bedroom still wearing nothing but pajamas and a bathrobe. Passing by a grandfather clock, she saw that the time was ten thirty in the morning.

Tempest climbed down the staircase, yawning and rubbing her eyes. It hadn't been a very good night of sleep. First of all, her bed had been soiled. The offence wasn't unforgivable, but Tempest firmly believed that you just don't do that in your friend's bed. Second, the couch was lumpy. She figured that it wasn't used often. Ciel didn't seem to be an out-going person and thus didn't have that many visitors hanging around the living room. Third, falling asleep was exactly as easy as it looked. Ciel slept on his side and she slept on the other. But somehow things were different. Things were pushing towards a breaking point. Her gut was telling her so. Something was going to give soon. The time was fast approaching when both them could only take so much tension.

Four sets of eyes, well three pairs of eyes and a certain blue, watched her as she approached the table, stiff and slovenly composed. Tempest scuffled to her usual chair, plopping down into it like an exhausted minimum wage worker after a long shift rather than sitting herself in the lady-like fashion she was known for. Sebastian placed a plate of food in front of her. She didn't look at him directly but she turned a spiteful eye at him from the side.

Beatrix still looked abashed and avoided eye contact with Tempest the whole time. The grim reaper chugged down her coffee and stood up from her seat at the table. It seemed that she was in a rush to leave the dining room. She was only stopped when Ciel spoke out.

"Just a moment, Bathory. I have something we need to talk about."

Jacobi, who seemed relatively invisible before, snickered like children do when they know somebody's going to get punished. Beatrix turned around on her heel, nervous. She knew what was coming.

"You too, Sebastian." Ciel continued.

Tempest looked up from her food, still chewing some buttered toast.

"Since you two seem _so_ attracted to each other, I've come up with a brilliant punishment to fit the crime," Ciel reached down under the table. There came clanking of chains and when he straightened himself, in his hands Ciel held out a pair of handcuffs with an incredible long chain. The handcuffs and the chain itself appeared to be made of heavy iron. He too rose from his chair.

First he came to his butler and tightened one cuff to Sebastian's wrist. The long chain allowed Ciel to walk around one end of the table and approached Beatrix with the same purpose. Once both ends were secured around the offenders' wrists, Ciel produced an iron key from his pocket. Beatrix tried to grab for it, but the demon was much too fast for her.

"Not so fast, this is your punishment. A couple of days stuck together should help prevent future incidents," said Ciel casually while he got back into his chair at the head of the table.

"But…but how I am going to take_ her _rehearsals. I mean are you going to make her drop out now when it's just a couple of days away?" Beatrix didn't like to beg, but the idea of being stuck together with that butler of his was no longer appealing. Just the opposite.

Ciel turned to Tempest. "Do you have a driver's license?"

She finished chewing on her forkful of scrambled eggs. "Of course I do. What woman my age in America doesn't have her driver's license?"

"Oh really," Beatrix slammed her palms against the table, causing some of the glasses to shake a little, "And what's she going to drive? I'm the only one with an actual car…"

"Yes, indeed you do." Ciel smirked evilly.

Tempest snickered, rather enjoying the idea of driving Beatrix's car only to get back at her for ruining her bed.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no. She is _not_ driving my car. Nobody drives my car except me!"

"You owe me, remember? Besides, I'm a good driver."

"That's not the point, girly. _Nobody _drives my baby. Before I found her, she was about to turn into scrap metal. I fished her out of junk yard and rebuilt her with my own two hands. I have put my blood, sweat, and tears into fixing that car out there and I don't let _anybody_ drive it." Beatrix argued.

Tempest inhaled sharply. The fork in her hand landed on the table with a silencing clatter. "You had sex in my bed! You don't do that to a friend. You know why? Because it's gross. _I _don't even do _it _in my own bed. It's like sacrilege. So either suck it up and deal with it or you find some other way for us to get even."

"I'll just be in my room reading," Jacobi wiped his mouth with his napkin and scurried away from the table. No sense in lingering around when adult conversations were being shouted down the table.

Jacobi went back to his room, evidently at the same time both women started raising their voices. He climbed the stairs and ventured back to his room. Ciel was generous enough to give him the last remaining guest room in the manor. The other one was occupied by Beatrix and Sebastian had his own closer to the attic. Ciel, of course, owned the master bedroom.

The room was simple, but well furnished. He had everything he needed. Books, clothes, and a few magical knick-knacks he snuck into his new home. Speaking of magic, Jacobi went to his plain wooden desk to check on the progress of his plant. He followed the recipe just as he had seen it in Madam Calico's book. The boy had the gift of photographic memory. A nearly leafless bonsai tree-like shrub sprouted a red-orange blossom not quite ready to fully open. When it did, the flower's seeds would spill out. Each one would add a year to Ciel's life. He had never experimented the effects this magic plant had on a demon, but there was only one way to find out for sure what it would do. Hopefully, the woman he once thought of as a mother would not find him or his patron, Ciel. If she did, there would be no fury to match Lillian's.

* * *

Just thought I should also mention that I have posted yet another Black Butler fanfiction and I'm in the middle of writing an entirely original piece of fiction for . Though, I should mention that the new Black Butler fiction is more of a psychological thriller and is not intended for younger readers. You've been warned.


	77. Author's Note 3

I would like to make a formal apology to my fans. I have chapters ready to be downloaded, but alas, my computer decided to start hating me and it's currently located at a repair shop until at least tomorrow, maybe possibly longer. I would write those chapters on the family computer, but it's just not the same. I have weird habits that must be performed for my creativity to flow properly. This applies to all of my work, not just fanfiction. So again, I apologize for the lack of updates. You will have new chapters shortly. Have patience, if you please.


	78. Chapter 74

Beatrix was perched on the kitchen counter, back hunched over and face set in an unmistakable look of disgust, giving the grim reaper the appearance of a grumpy gargoyle. The long chain was long enough for them to stand across the kitchen. They were alone together, though no longer by choice. She watched Sebastian as he tended to the morning dishes. Ciel and Tempest wouldn't be back home until much later. With three days until her opening night, rehearsals could take longer than before, not to mention costuming had yet to take place. Beatrix never caught sight of any costume while she performed her bodyguard duty.

"You could be useful and help me," Sebastian didn't even turn to look at her.

"I thought it was your job," Beatrix replied to his suggestion with just bit of venom in her words.

Finally, he did turn towards her. His red eye stared at her with a blank expression. "Why lose your venom on me? This punishment is your fault as well as mine." He shortly returned to the work before him.

"You see I would do that," Beatrix stepped down from the counter, "if something about you didn't bug the Dickens out of me."

"Oh?" Sebastian acted surprised, but the grim reaper glared at him from atop her round-shaped glasses.

"For a butler, for one _Hell _of a butler, you made a pretty big mistake. You don't make mistakes. You're perfect. You'd have to be in order to please your master. So, I've been thinking about what happened yesterday and I've went over every single detail I could remember. You would have realized the second we stepped into the room that it wasn't mine."

The butler only offered her his familiar closed-eyed grins he was famous for.

"Go on." He heard her boots stomping across the tiled floor.

Her pale hand grabbed his collar. Just as before, their faces were merely inches apart.

"You did it on purpose." Beatrix gritted through her teeth.

Sebastian remained silent for a moment. He didn't need to think about his answer. What happened the day before was indeed a happy accident, though not completely. He indeed knew that they went into the wrong room. He just didn't bother telling Beatrix until it was too late and the master and Miss Tempest had already arrived home. Knowing how much Ciel had become attached to Tempest, he pulled a plan out of the air like a magi. What Beatrix didn't know was that his plan involved her the second they started scrambled for a bedroom. Beatrix's mind seemed so hazed with lust and want she chose the wrong doorknob to turn. Sebastian, of course, was far more familiar with the area of the house. There wasn't a room he had not entered or a corner he had not cleaned. Beatrix, on the other hand, didn't have the exact knowledge of the house that he did. The sex happened so fast that she didn't even realize it. In summary, yes, Sebastian knew it was Tempest's room, not Beatrix's; however his plan was really one of convenience. He did plan on seducing Beatrix sooner or later. The mistaken room just happened to be a good idea at the time.

"Answer me, did you or did you not do it on purpose?" Beatrix continued to seethe.

"It was merely a scheme of convenience. Sleeping with you was on purpose, but I didn't intend for us to end up in Tempest's bed, not at first."

"So you made it up as you went along? Why?" Beatrix never lost her grip on his collar, not even slightly. She hated being used. She especially hated being used by a man, even if he was an incredibly gorgeous demon. But Sebastian didn't deserve complements anymore. He had a death wish messing around with her.

"Because the young master has grown attached to Miss Tempest. The closer they become, the sooner he will be happy. Once Mister Jacobi finishes his spell, there wouldn't be anything to stand between, but in the meantime, a little quality time never hurt anyone? I live to serve and I will do everything in my power to see to my master's wishes, whether he orders me to do so or not."

"You're a sadistic bastard, you know that?" Beatrix, despite her anger and hatred towards Sebastian as this moment, slowly released him.

"And you enjoy every second of it," Sebastian answered, his voice hushed.

Beatrix sneered and turned her back towards him. "I have no idea what you're talking about! Just go back to your dishes, butler boy!"

_What I would give to get away from this…this…Lidercnyomastol _(Hungarian for incubus).

"And why don't you admit that you're lying to yourself. You're attracted to me because you're very fond of breaking rules. You've admitted before that you've had to claw your way to your position all because of your gender. You don't dress like a normal woman. I've never seen you wear a skirt. You smoke when I've told you not to. You've never been married, much less an actual relationship. All of this tells me that you like doing things you're not supposed to, ergo, you are attracted to me. You're only saying those things because you don't want to admit it. Showing emotion isn't in your personal nature."

Beatrix swung around and aimed her fist directly for Sebastian's face. It had nearly hit its target had it not been for Sebastian's speed. She had not taken into account that, or least temporarily forgot that he was a demon in the first place. Demons could easily match and sometimes even surpass the speed and reaction time of a grim reaper. Her green eyes darted towards her hand where she found it trapped in his gloved one.

"You know squat about me!" She snarled.

"Then by all means, tell me about yourself. If you believe I know nothing about you, then correct me."

"So what if I like breaking rules? That proves nothing."

"Ah, but it proves everything." Sebastian grabbed her whole arm and forced her against the cabinets. It was Beatrix's turn to feel trapped.

Beatrix half stood and half leaned against the wall of built-in cabinets. The chain tying them together clanked as Sebastian held her arms above her head. His red eyes were staring into her green ones. His free hand suddenly removed them from her face.

"Hey!" Beatrix started struggled. She could not see. Colors and shapes became all one big blob to her brain, the eyes weren't the actual organs used to understand objects seen after all. Sebastian was teasing her again. He had her trapped and weak. Without her glasses, she was a sitting duck.

"I'll give these back when you answer me correctly: are you or are you not attracted to me because you like breaking rules? You're a grim reaper. Your kind is supposed to hate mine. It's ingrained in your minds. What makes you different? You should hate me with all the blazing white heat of a thousand suns and yet you've stayed. You weren't authorized to be her bodyguard. You could have stayed home, but here we are."

Beatrix chewed her lip. She'd rather die than tell him the truth. However, the longer she stayed without her glasses, the harder it was to ignore the increasingly painful headache forming in her skull. The blurry vision made her squint so hard it started to actually hurt. Sebastian was as stubborn as she was. He wasn't going to let her go if she begged him, not that she would. Beatrix never resorted to begging, not even to safe her own life. That's the kind of woman she was. Now the choice was down to things, both of which she detested. It was either admit that he was right and confess that she very attracted to him because she shouldn't be or beg him to release her. Neither of these choices looked good to her. Either way, he'd win. He would get to see her humble herself before him. As a prideful demon, Sebastian's ego would only get a boost from watching her display of humility.

"Fine, fine, already! Yes, I like breaking rules! Yes, I like you because I'm not supposed to! Now, give me back my glasses, you rotten bastard!" Beatrix began to kick and squirm her way out of his tight hold.

Her glasses were thankfully replaced, but he held her there. Sebastian kissed her on the mouth, effectively silencing her.

"I would have enjoyed seeing you fight me off a little more though," he whispered in her ear.

Then, as if nothing happened at all, Sebastian went back to work, scrubbing the dirty pans, encrusted with leftover eggs.


	79. Chapter 75

So, my computer epically failed and all of the chapters I had written were permanently deleted. Stupid hard drive. The only reason why the most recent chapter was written was because I reluctantly typed it up on the family computer, with great difficulty I might add. This news is going to be shocking, but I better tell you know before I get to the really, really gnarly chapters. First, there is a character death. Don't bother asking me who it is and don't you dare guess and post it in a review. I mean it. Don't do it. Second, 'Phantom of the Theater' will eventually become a series. That's right. There will a 'Phantom of the Theater II.' Well, that title sucks so I'll give it a different one. The reason behind this is because there are so many chapters in the current edition. I'd have to make a sequel in order to get in new stuff. Third, there will be, without a doubt, cliff-hangers by the end of this edition. Why? Two reasons:

one, I'm evil and I like to keep my readers on edge. Two, because those same cliff-hangers will lead to conflict and plots in the sequel.

This is an incredibly long author's note, so I'll just get right into the chapter. One more thing before I forget, I should mention that by mid-April, I should have some original fiction under the same name on on . However, I can't make any promises. Ta-ta, my darling readers.

XOXO

* * *

Jacobi gently caressed the flower's orange petal. It was ready. The seeds would fall at midnight. Ciel would need nine in order to age just enough to meet with Tempest's. The boy-witch didn't envy his patron. The transformation would be painful.

"Loyalty..." A hiss came from behind him.

Immediately, he spun on his heels, but found no one and nothing in his room. No one in his room. Just him. Still, the lack of persons in his room didn't squelch the fear that rose in his chest. He could feel his heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through him. Hearing disembodied voices were never a good thing, especially in the supernatural world.

"Loyalty..." The voice was drenched in rage and betrayal.

Jacobi couldn't deny it. There was someone working magic in there. And there was only one person who would do such a thing.

" Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty, only to me." Then it spoke no more.

Jacobi clenched his hands hands at his sides, shaking nervously. The madame he once called 'mother' was not a witch to contend with. She took loyalty and betrayal very seriously. If she had sent him this message, she knew what he had done and whose allegiance he plead for now. Lillian was, in some ways, a genius. However, her genius could often turn to madness. When she would strike, Jacobi didn't know. All he knew was that she was on to him. Lillian was possessive, even her mothering and care for him was masked by her possessiveness. After so many years, Jacobi easily saw through her mask. She was insane. She wouldn't let him go so easily.

He ran from his room and sprang for the library, where Ciel spent most of his days. The witch found him calmly sitting at his desk, reading a book. At Jacobi's sudden entering, Ciel looked up from the text before him. His brows became furrowed at the sight of the other boy's frightened appearance. Jacobi turned pale as a ghost and his body trembled. He had seen or heard something that scared him nearly to death, Ciel assumed. The boy was immortal, for the most part. Very few things must have scared him. Unless...unless the person he feared most reared her ugly head. A dreadful premonition formed in Ciel's head.

"Monsieur, we may have a problem." Jacobi collected himself enough to without stammering.

"I have a feeling that I might not like what you have to say," he shut the book, not likely to pick up again that day.

"Mademoiselle Lillian...she was here."

Jacobi stepped back just a little when he saw the look on Ciel's face. His eyes flashed for a moment and then his body became rigid as a rock.

"She was here?" His tone was both angry and worried. A witch like her shouldn't be dealt with. Even Jacobi feared her, and that was enough to make Ciel cautious of her. He was well aware that sooner or later she'd figure out that her son would never return willing to her side. However, how would she know whether or not Jacobi had been relieved from the hospital? It wouldn't be likely that she checked periodically. Lillian was smarter than that. But who could have told the witch what Ciel had done? Someone that they were unaware of had found out and blabbed to the deranged witch in question. Come to think of it, Alessandra was still alive and she seemed pretty intent on holding Tempest hostage for souls to eat.

"Not so much in person, but she was here. I know her voice anywhere. She must have found me somehow..."

Ciel rose to his feet. He sprinted past Jacobi and made his way to the living room. Jacobi ran close behind him, but wasn't sure why Ciel was in such a rush. Tempest was in the living room with script in hand. She appeared unharmed.

She looked up from the manuscript in her hands. Ciel's disturbance worried her. His eyes darted around the room, looking for something. When he found nothing, he still couldn't relax.

"Ciel, is something wrong?" Tempest asked. She worried that something indeed was wrong and she'd be forced to miss opening night.

"Did you hear anything strange today? Anything out of the ordinary?" Ciel answered her question with questions of his own.

Tempest shook her head. "No, nothing at all. I've just been reviewing my lines at the last minute. I want my performance to be perfect."

"Good, good," Ciel lowered his voice to a whisper.

Ciel planted himself on the couch, sighing. Jacobi disappeared quietly as was his usual habit. The boy had the habit of disappearing when he was not needed.

"You're starting to make me worry." Tempest looked at Ciel while she remained standing. She was in the middle of the room with the manuscript in her hands.

"Don't. Just...just don't be by yourself for the time being. I can't tell you why, but I don't want you to be alone today."

The look on Ciel's face made her anxious. Telling her not to worry made her worry. His appearance didn't help matters either. She could tell that something was going on and for some reason he wasn't telling was it was. Tempest understood that sometimes he kept her in the dark in order to protect her, but he if wanted her to think of him less than a child and more like a man, he had to confess what was wrong. She had her suspicions since Jacobi popped out of the blue. Ciel didn't seem like the kind of person to show random acts of kindness. He practically told her that on the train.

Tempest could have easily told him off. Threaten to run away and never return if he didn't tell her exactly what was going on, what he was hiding from her. But she held her tongue. Today was not the day to start an argument. Neither of them could be distracted. She had a performance to give and Tim Burton was likely to be in the audience. And as for Ciel, he seemed to have more on his plate than she had on hers. He had a thousand things to take care of outside the things that concerned her. Whatever he was withholding, would wait for another day.


	80. Chapter 76

Tempest sat silently in her dressing room. Two of the other actresses she shared it with had already finished their make-up so she was all by herself. Ciel told her not to be alone, but it couldn't be avoided. Every now and then she glanced at the open door, the only door leading in or out. She smeared black eye-shadow around her eyes. She sat so close to the vanity, her face was almost pressing against the mirror. All that had to be done were just a few minor details. Tim Burton was going to be in the audience. Everything had to be perfect.

While her eyes were busy paying attention to what she was doing, there came a soft knock on the door.

Tempest turned slowly and found Ciel in the doorway, holding a bouquet of white roses. His face was sullen as usual, but probably because she was sitting alone, the opposite of what he asked of her.

"I told you not to be alone," he entered, shutting the door behind him.

Tempest rolled her eyes, agitated, and sighed.

"I couldn't exactly help it, you know. If you came here to argue with me, I must ask that you wait until after the show. I can't screw up in front of Tim Burton," she went back to fixing her make-up, smudging even more dark make-up around her eyes.

They remained in silence for the longest time. Tempest could hear Ciel shift from one foot to the other. This was certainly out of character for him. He seemed almost, dare she say it, nervous. Fidgety even.

"I understand that, but you must also understand that you worry me. I have enemies and the world might not be ready for the likes of you. A hybrid of a human and grim reaper could be very dangerous. I don't want to see you fall into the wrong hands." Ciel stared at his own feet. He didn't stammer or struggle to find the words he needed, yet he was messed on the inside just the same. This whole situation was not natural. Grim reapers hated demons and demons ate the souls of human beings. Tempest's existence was in itself an oxymoron. A human with a grim reaper's soul.

She placed the cap back on the eye-shadow. In his own way, he was showing how much he cared, even if it came off as a tad possessive and lacking in emotion. He was a demon, and she guessed that in his human days he wasn't too touchy-feely either.

"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. I can tie my own boot laces and everything."

Another pregnant moment of silence and awkwardness followed suit.

"That doesn't mean I don't worry. You're undeveloped when it comes to self-defense. And quite frankly, you worry me. You're not like the girls I used to be around with. I had someone close to me when I was a human. She was the opposite of you. She came from money. She had everything handed to her. But you...you want to gain nothing unless its by your own hands, which is an admirable quality. You're not lazy. You don't let yourself become that way. In these past few months, you've taken on so much weight and not once has your spirit broken. All of these things is what I like about your character, but at the same time, I'm not comfortable with you being alone. It's not safe."

Tempest reclined in the lightly cushioned chair in front of the vanity. She absent mindedly picked at a stray thread in her black crocheted, fingerless gloves. Her eyes became glued to her lap. Suddenly, the bouquet of roses landed in her lap. Tempest looked up, surprised, and found him still standing there. Peeling back the glossy paper it was wrapped in, she took a closer look at the bouquet. There were at least a dozen white roses, pure, unscathed, and smelling fresh like they'd just been plucked from an earthy garden. She pressed her nose into the bouquet, inhaling deeply. The soft petals the scratchy fern leaves brushed against her cheeks gently. There wasn't even a single thorn on any of the flowers.

"You worry me, Tempest," she looked up again, "and some days I wish you'd let someone take care of you."

Tempest saw a faint line of red grow across his face, along his cheeks and down his neck. Her face suddenly turned red. She placed her hand against her cheek. It felt hot through even the crocheted thread.

"And who would do that? Take care of me?" She asked with a skeptic voice. "You?"

Ciel reached inside his pocket and produced a folded handkerchief. The handkerchief had been folded so many times that it now appeared no more than an inch across and an inch in height. Tempest watched, all of a sudden deeply interested in his actions, as he unfolded the handkerchief in his hand. A few seconds later her held it out to her, the unfolded cloth and a miniscule seed resting in the middle of his palm. Tempest's brows furrowed. A seed?

"What's that?" Tempest pointed to the object in the middle of his hand.

Ciel took it between two of his fingers and held it up to her eyes level.

"This," he said, "is a seed that will make me age, one of nine. If you only feel comfortable around me if I didn't have this body, then this is what I'll have to do."

Tempest's eyes flew wide for a moment. It took some time for the information to settle inside her brain. A seed that could make him age? A seed that would make him not just look older but actually change him? Was such a thing possible?

Without another word of explanation, Ciel popped the seed into his mouth. He swallowed, but he scrunched his nose up. The seed must have tasted awful going down.

"W-why'd you do that?" Tempest asked in an almost horrified voice.

"So you don't have to rely on yourself anymore." Then he said nothing more.

Tempest opened her mouth to say something, but he quickly fled before she could speak even a single word. She found herself completely out of her seat, reaching for the door in order to follow him. Ciel had already left. He wasn't coming back. He'd be waiting in the audience, watching her and eventually clapping with the rest of the audience. Her knees buckled completely beneath her, the fact that he found something that would make him older sunk in.

Worst timing ever...


	81. Chapter 77

Tempest feared the worst as she stepped up to the stage before the first act. Her legs were shaking underneath her heavy skirt. The orchestra finished the prelude. She picked up the prop knife, breathing in deeply.

_Just focus on what you're doing. Don't you dare show weakness. Not now._

The curtain slid across its railings and the lights went on. She began to pretend chopping assorted vegetables and meats. The clacking against the wooden board was a good distraction. Tempest kept her eyes towards the action at hand. The biggest temptation before her was looking up into the crowd and find Ciel watching intently. Alexander stepped through the fake poor. On cue, Tempest looked up and acted surprised.

"Ah, a customer," she dropped the prop and ran across the stage to the startled Sweeney Todd and grabbed his arm and forcibly sat him down at a rickety chair. "Wait! What's your rush? What's your hurry? Gave me such a-fright. I thought you was a ghost half a minute! Can't ya sit down? Sit. All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks."

Tempest scuttled back to the fake kitchen counter. "Did you come in for a pie, sir? Do forgive me if me head's a little vague."

She swatted away an imaginary cockroach. "What was that that? But you think we'd had the plague, from the way the way that people keep avoidin'. No, you don't! Heaven knows I try, sir, but there's no one comes in even to inhale. Right you are, so would you like a drop of ale? Mind you, I can hardly blame them, these are probably the worst pies in London."

"I know why nobody cares to take them. I should know, I make 'em, but good, no, the worst pies in London. Even as polite, the worst pies in London. If you doubt it, take a bite."

Tempest returned to Alexander with a freshly made, yes it was an actual pastry, meat pie and a 'glass of ale'. He took a bite and pretended to be disgusted and on the verge of puking.

She sighed, shaking her head. "Is that just disgusting? You have concede it, it's nothing but crusting. Here, drink this, you'll need it. The worst pies in London."

Tempest paused for a merely a minute. Her eyes were suddenly drawn to the back of the theater. The stage lights blocked most of her view, but she still tried to squint into the back rows. Something was over there. A gnawing, foreshadowing feeling grew in her stomach. Something or someone was going to try to cause trouble tonight. Tempest couldn't explain how or why she felt this way. The director gave her an irritated glance. She missed her cue.

She began chopping things angrily. "And no wonder with the price of meat, what is, when you get. Never thought I'd live to see the day. Men think it was a treat to finding poor animals, what are dying in the street."

She pointed towards the window built in the stage shop-set. "Mrs. Moony has a pie shop. Does her business, but I've noticed something weird. Lately all of her neighbor's cats have disappeared. Have to, hand it to her, wot I calls enterprise, popping pussies into pies. Wouldn't do it in my shop. Just the thought of it is enough to make you sick. And I'm tellin' you those pussy-cats is quick. No denyin' times is hard, sir, even harder than the worst pies in London. Only lard and nothin' more. Is that just revoltin'? All greasy and gritty. It looks like it's moltin' and tastes like...well pity a woman alone. With limited wind and the worst pies in London. Aye, sir, times is hard. Times is hard."

Ciel saw Tempest's delaying cue. From what he'd seen, she never missed a cue. Something had gotten her attention. He felt a cold chill down his neck.

"Sebastian," he whispered to his butler sitting next to him in the front row.

"Yes, sir?"

"Find out who that is. There's someone sitting in the back, most likely a threat."

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian bowed his head and left quickly and silently.

Sebastian crept down the aisle, his eyes focused on the back of the theater. A woman in black rose from her seat, but he couldn't get a good look at her face. She wore a hat with a lace-veil, shielding her identity from him. The woman escaped through the back exit and sure enough was temporarily out of sight. Sebastian followed her, ignoring the confused eyes of patrons. Though he had temporarily lost her, Sebastian spotted the long train of her dress leading him towards the well-lit lobby.

The lobby was bare. Security guards were elsewhere, no doubt trying to keep those who hadn't paid for tickets out and watching out for the famous movie director sitting somewhere in the theater already. It was only him and the suspicious woman.

She stopped in the middle of lobby. Her perfectly manicured nails reached up for her hat. She removed it with a familiar grace, that Sebastian needed to say one thing before he knew for sure who this woman was.

"_Bonsoir, Madame. Y a-t-il une raison particulière pour laquelle vous êtes parti tôt ? L'exposition commençait juste_?" (Good evening, madam. Is there any particular reason why you left early? The show was just beginning.)

"_La correction, la vraie exposition est sur pointe de commencer._" (Correction, the real show is about to begin.)


	82. Chapter 78

Lillian unpinned her hair from her usual hairstyle, a tight bun. The dark blonde tresses fell loosely over her shoulder.

"We meet again, Gideon, for the last time," she spoke in English.

"My name is Sebastian, Lillian. It is the name my new master has given me," he corrected her. "You let your hair down when you attacked the village and again in Paris. Do you intend to cause that much destruction now as you did then?"

"Revenge is not a clean business, monsieur. It's bloody, violent, unclean. You've taken something dear to me, and so I shall do the same. To all of you." Lillian produced her dagger out of thin air.

Sebastian sighed. So it came to this. He removed his pristine gloves with his teeth. Rather than putting them in his pockets, he tossed them aside. They fluttered to the floor. He could hear the audience in the actual theater cheering and clapping from far away. The show was well on its way. Lillian had to be stopped then and there.

"We will always have Paris," he said with such a hint of nostalgia.

Lillian grinned, though from actual pleasurable nostalgia or because she really was insane, Sebastian could not tell.

"We made love in the king's bed chamber at the very moment he was beheaded. Yes, we will always have Paris." Lillian began to step closer. "But you will not live long enough to see it again!"

With her dagger held tightly in her white hand, Lillian charged at him full speed. Sebastian side-stepped, easily dodging the sharp blade. Seeing that she missed him, the witch made another move of attack, swiping madly, but her target kept leaping out of harm's way. Her dagger kept missing by merely an inch or two. Sebastian's speed and agility were starting to get on her nerves.

"Will you hold still?" Lillian shouted in angry frustration.

Sebastian paused. "That makes no sense. Why would I hold still if you plan to cut me?"

He easily moved out of her way again. Lillian turned her head towards the ceiling above him. The chandelier above them, a marvelous reproduction of the Gothic aesthetic of wrought-iron and modern electric light. It swung just ever so slightly in the breeze of the ventilation system. A new smile, a mad smile was drawn across Lillian's face. She shot her hand in the air and the chandelier began shaking in its fixture. Sebastian wasted no time getting out of the way.

With a boom and a crash, the chandelier smashed into a thousand pieces and the lobby was thrown into darkness. But this was not to Lillian's advantage. Some witches could see in the dark. That was their gift, but not Lillian's. Her powers were based mainly in earth-magic and telekinesis. So, in hindsight, breaking the chandelier wasn't the best idea she had. She hoped that he wouldn't move, but then again, this was Sebastian after all. This man, demon rather, was always full of surprises. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. She moved slowly about in the darkness, arms outstretched in front of her, groping into the nothingness with hope of grabbing onto Sebastian and finish him.

Sounds of voices erupted from the theater. If she could get inside there, she could achieve her goal faster. All she had to do was make it inside. Lillian followed the sound. Her feet crunched against the broken glass and wire-work of the chandelier laying at her feet like a useless pile of scrap metal. The theater door opened, and two shadowy figures entered the darkness. In their hands, they each held a flashlight.

Lillian swore under her breath. Trouble.

"Ma'am," a theater attendant shined his flashlight towards her. He didn't see her dagger because she hid it behind her back. "Are you alright?"

The attendant approached her quickly. His co-worker shined her own flashlight towards the ceiling. "Looks like the chandelier fell."

"Yeah, I can see that, Karen," the first attendant said snidely. He lightly touched Lillian's arm. "If you're injured, I can take you the manager's office."

"That won't be necessary," Lillian raised her dagger in the darkness. Mortals were much easier to kill than demons.

The dagger found its way to the attendant's throat, slicing the delicate and unprotected flesh from tip of his left jaw and then all the way to the base of his neck. His hand flew to the wound immediately, but it was too late. Too much of his blood was seeping through his fingers already. He crumbled to the burgundy-carpeted floor, darkening the nice looking carpet with his blood. In the light of his flashlight which had fallen from his hand, showed that his white uniform shirt was stained red.

His partner had heard the noise and pointed her flashlight in the direction of the sound. The light chanced upon the red blood dripping from Lillian's dagger. Her flashlight too met with the ground as she covered her mouth with her hands in horror. But despite her efforts, Karen couldn't contain her shrill screams. Lillian charged for her next, stepping in the puddle of the male attendant's blood. Her dagger tore through flesh and the cloth of the black vest of the woman's uniform. Lillian dug the blade deeper into her victim's stomach. A trail of blood dribbled down Karen's lips and she fell dead.

"Sebastian," Lillian called out into the darkness. She couldn't sense him. He was being clever. "Do you think I'll show that girl any mercy? Unlike some of my comrades, I can kill without a thought. I have no compunction for the likes of mortal men. That girl won't receive any kind of kindness from me. Maybe I won't kill her, but I can cut out her eyes. Let's see how she can deal when something is precious is taken from her too!"

She heard nothing. Not a sound. There was only near darkness and silence. Lillian strained her ears to find something in the lobby, a single noise to find out where that butler disappeared to. She strained her ears to listen until they began ringing. People were talking again in the theater, however the door remained closed.

"Show yourself, cowardly dog!"

Still no reply.

"I am no coward," Sebastian finally spoke. His shoes appeared first in the flashlights' dim lighting. He reentered the darkness as quickly as it had descended.

Lillian's well-adjusted eyes found him, grinning like a mad man. The red of eyes were only enhanced by the bleak darkness. His whole aura was like that of a man with a forbidden secret, one of the things she had been attracted to in those good-old and bloody days of the French Revolution. But that smug look on his face did nothing for her. All that she could think of was wiping off that stupid look on his face by cutting him into pieces.

Seeing the intentions on her mind just by looking into her eyes, Sebastian's eyes turned a deadly shade of magenta. Lillian firmly remained where she stood, but she flinched just slightly. This slight movement caused Sebastian to move closer like a hunter and the prey.

"If you think you're going to make it out of here alive, then I'm afraid you are mistaken. I have my orders from my master and his orders are to be followed to the letter. If he orders me to protect the young lady he's become so fond of, then that is what I shall do. Whether you want to kill her or send her back into a life of blindness, my orders are to keep her healthy, alive, and unharmed."

Lillian sneered. "Of course you would uphold your contract. You're a miserable dog who follows his master's every order. But let me tell you something, _Sebastian,_" she spat on the ground as if she had said something foul. "You're the one who's sadly mistaken. If you recall, I'm not a stupid woman. I wouldn't be so bold as to come by myself. Besides, who do you think tipped me off about your master's plans and how my little Jacobi managed to get away those mortals so easily?"

"You brought friends." Sebastian's eyes narrowed.


	83. Chapter 79

"And who exactly are these allies of yours," Sebastian continued.

"Oh, you know. Your very own comrades. Demons, my dear Sebastian, demons."

"Demons?"

Lillian nodded her head. "You may know her. Alessandra, I believe her name is."

She made her way towards the theater, the silver of her dagger shining piercing the darkness and the sticky red blood still dripped to the floor. Sebastian followed her until she stood in front of the closed doors, her back towards it.

"And what you two expect to accomplish here tonight?"

"I get to kill you and your master and Jacobi for betraying my loyalty. Then, I hand over the girl, after I've plucked out those pretty blue eyes of hers, that is. Oh, and yes, plenty of chaos, blood-soaked, screaming chaos." Lillian answered with psychotic glee.

With a sudden rush of demonic energy, Lillian flew backwards, crashing through theater doors. Heads turned in her direction. The orchestra halted. Even all the actors on stage turned towards the middle aisle. The director jumped up out of his seat and screamed bloody murder. He called for security, just as Lillian got to her feet. She was brushing off dust from her skirt when a few muscular appeared around her quickly. They lasted longer than the attendants. Within minutes, she had corpses at her feet instead of guards standing in her midst. Not surprisingly, some in the audience screamed. These and a few others shot up out of their seats and made a hurried and terrified bee-line for the nearest exit. Those who left after them simply didn't want to be trampled in the chaos or caught in the middle of a hideous fight. The orchestra and most of the tech-crew vanished behind the curtains. Alexander Tripoli, Tempest's male lead, followed suit, throwing off his black and white wig and left it there to be trampled by the dozens of feet making hasty retreats. Even the director had the mind-set to leave. A dangerous psychopathic killer was something meant for the police to handle.

Tempest alone stood on the stage, fists shaking at her sides. Her eyes were glued to the four dead bodies in the aisle.

"Now that I have your attention," Lillian pointed her blood-soaked dagger towards Tempest, the stage lights refracted off the gruesome blood on the blade.

A shadow descended from a blackened balcony-box like an angel of death. It was Alessandra and she seemed to be in good spirits, and better health from the looks of it. She showed no signs that her shoulder had ever been injured.

"You Frenchmen always have to make an entrance, don't you?" She smiled at the corpses on the floor. Without missing a beat, she climbed over their lifeless limbs, but being careful not to get too much blood on her patent-leather heels. "Always have to make things nice and bloody, don't you? Of course, what can you expect from the same country who designed the guillotine for their own king?"

"You?" Tempest sneered. She glared at Alessandra, and though she had been afraid of her brother, the sister didn't threaten or scare her. True, she was weak at first, but Tempest wasn't the same person anymore. She was stronger, granted she still had things to change about herself, however, she was strong enough to fight back. She wasn't going to let anyone else use her in some sort of sick plot for power.

Everything Tempest saw about Alessandra reminded her of Damon. Her black hair, her dark eyes, the way she walked and talked liked she own her and owned the world. Anger and the thirst for revenge came boiling up inside of her. Everything about Alessandra reminded Tempest of her brother, the demon who tortured her for years. Tempest hated her, she hated this demon more than she hated anyone before. Tempest wasn't going to stand aside and let others fight for her. She didn't become stronger so she could let others fight her battles for her and all of those years wasted in fear gave way to anger. She would take her anger, even if it was misplaced, was now directed at Alessandra.

"Yes, me. When I heard about your boyfriend's plan, well, I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. Besides, Lillian had the right to now where her son could be found, don't you think so?" She turned to Lillian, who only grimaced.

Everybody was so preoccupied with Alessandra and Lillian, Beatrix sneaked silently behind the demon and brandishing her shovel, gave her a good smack on the back of the head.

"I believe you talk too much for your own good, you black-haired hussy." She glanced at Tempest, apologetically, "No offense."

"None taken." Tempest made her way towards the orchestra pit.

Jacobi sunk in his seat, unsure of what to do. However, beside him, Ciel rose quickly into action and summoned Sebastian before him.

"Don't let either of these two leave here alive. That's an order." Ciel went over to the other end of the orchestra pit, in case Tempest needed help climbing out.

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian bowed from the waist with his ungloved hand over his heart.

With that said and done, Tempest stepped closer to the pit. She sat down on the edge of the stage and eased herself down. The pit was several feet wide, a good six feet tall, and filled with discarded musical instruments, music sheets, and flimsy stands that were cast aside like broken toys in the players mad rush to flee with the others. She stumbled over a cello laying helplessly on the ground, but she managed to pick herself up quickly. This was not the time to slip up again so easily. Tempest lifted part of her heavy skirt and began climbing over instruments and stands. Her climb was rigorous for such a brief distance. If it weren't for all those instruments in the way, it wouldn't have taken so long. Finally, she sighed with relief as she made it to the grid-like wall of the orchestra pit. Ciel bent over it, laying on his stomach and his hand stretched downwards to her. Tempest put in one of her feet into a space between the wooden planks and began climbing again, this time upwards like one of those rock walls they might have in a crazy expensive gym. The touch of Ciel's hand in hers was comforting. His real strength wasn't visible, but he grabbed hold of her hand as if he would never let her go. They began working together in pulling her up out of the pit.

" Young Master!" Sebastian hollered from the other side of the theater.

Tempest had her eyes locked on Ciel's one visible eye. She clung to it for reassurance.

Suddenly, a flash of black appeared behind Ciel and a glint of silver came down upon him. Tempest tore her eyes away from his face to find the witch hovering above them, smiling. The dagger was missing from her hand. Then, she disappeared again. Tempest looked at Ciel's face. He was straining to look unmoved, but he had been wounded. Climbing up on her own, she found the source of his pain., Lillian's knife was plunged deeply in his shoulder.

"You're hurt," Ciel's blood was starting run down his arm. It felt cold and wet as it seeped through even to her own hand.

"Tis but a flesh wound." Ciel gritted through his teeth.


	84. Chapter 80

Tempest scaled the small wall and sat on her knees, all the while watching Ciel trying to pull the dagger out of his shoulder blade. She reached out to help him, but he grabbed her wrist. He looked at her face, long and hard. He must have seen how worried and frightened she looked. Tempest couldn't tell how she appeared to him. There wasn't exactly a mirror hanging around for her to look at her reflection in order to see what she looked like at the moment.

She winced at the sight of blood. There was so much of it. Ciel's nice blue suit was soaked through with blood. The hole that the dagger made in the fabric could not be mended, no matter how good Sebastian's clothing repair skills were. The suit's jacket and his shirt underneath would have to be thrown out.

With his free hand, Ciel reached behind his back. His fingers grasped the hilt tightly and with a quick, yet painful, tug, the dagger was freed from his body. In the flourish of removing the blasted thing from his scapula, a bit of blood splattered on Tempest's cheeks. He had been so preoccupied with getting the dagger out of his back that he didn't realize that he pulled it out too quickly. His hand, when he removed the dagger, had accidentally splattered blood on her cheek. Her pale fingers went to her cheek first. Tempest touched her cheek and wiped the blood off of her face until her hand was tinged with his blood. But her eyes immediately darted for the wound.

"You're hurt," she repeated.

Ciel looked her calmly, but sternly in the eyes. "Calm down."

"You're bleeding! How am I supposed to calm down?"

Ciel took her by the hand instead of the wrist.

"It's not going to kill me."

Tempest opened her mouth to speak again, but she stopped herself.

"I am a demon. It will take a lot more than that to do me in," Ciel got to his feet and pulled up to hers, the whole time never letting go of her hand.

He pulled her towards an empty aisle, but kept her close. Jacobi still remained frozen in his seat. Sebastian, Beatrix, Alessandra, and Lillian were all preoccupied with each other, fighting with each other that is. They made their way to the entrance. But instead of following her, Ciel pushed her into the dark lobby by herself.

"Go outside and wait for us to come out. If we're not out there in thirty minutes, call your father," he slipped cell phone into her hand. "Now go!"

"But…"

Ciel silenced Tempest before she could say anything more. He gave her a look that sort of scared her, but he only did it to protect her. Tempest silently nodded, and turned on her heels. Ciel watched as she disappeared into the shadows. Small lights stretched out onto the floor from the small windows. It was still daylight, however not for long. The sun was setting. Ciel closed the door behind him as he entered the theater again.

Tempest ran outside, squinting at first into the slowly dimming light of the setting sun. A packed crowd stood around the theater. Sirens were wailing in the distance. The police were on their way. Several members of the cast and crew huddled across the street. When she spotted and them and began to approach, each of their eyes stared at her. They had been chatting away nervously, but at her mere presence they all fell silent. Tempest almost shook beneath the weight of their staring. She took a deep breath and tried to not look as if she knew what they were looking at. Some of them stopped what they were doing. They paused mid-text on their cell phones and they looked away to stare at her.

"What?" Tempest asked.

Alexander Tripoli, the actor who was playing Sweeney Todd came up to her first. His ran his fingers through his blonde locks, which had been missed up in his rush to remove the wig.

"I'm not speaking for myself here, I'm just the messenger," Alexander began.

Tempest looked confused. She looked around at the cast and crew, however she couldn't find a friendly face in the crowd. They all looked at her with a bad mixture of suspicion, anger, and antipathy.

"What are you talking about?" Tempest asked Alexander directly.

"Isn't it obvious? I personally have no problem with you, but whatever is going on in your life, it's influencing your career as an actor. That lunatic inside there," he pointed to the theater, "killed two attendants in cold blood and twelve people were killed by that stalker of yours."

Tempest was taken aback.

Alexander looked at the ground briefly. "Some of us in the community think that it might be best if you..."

"Stepped down," Tempest already knew where the conversation was leading.

Alexander raised his hand defensively. "That's not my _personal _opinion, but considering that you seem to be followed by nut-jobs. It might be best if you left the scene for a while."

Tempest inhaled and exhaled sharply. "Do you all feel this way?" She looked over the whole crowd bitterly.

They didn't so much as look at her. They bashfully turned away or just didn't feel like hurting her feelings by answering. However, by not answering verbally, they made themselves guilty by their silence. Tempest ground her teeth and clenched her fists at her sides until her fingernails dug deep into her palms.

"Fine then! If that's how you feel, then you won't be seeing my face around for a long, long time!" Tempest stormed away, trying to hide her tears.

She marched angrily to the other side of the street. The gathered crowd hid her. She walked through without any trouble. In the crowd, Tempest simply melted into the crowd. On the outside, she tried to put on a brave face. On the inside, she was shaken to her core. She figured that sooner or later somebody would make the connection. With this witch running a muck in the theater and killing people, it was a wonder that she wasn't pulled over by a police officer or a reporter to be questioned. Would she have the answers? If she told the truth, she'd end up in the loony-bin.

The crowd circling the theater refused to move. Police sirens were growing louder. Tempest began to worry about Ciel and the others. The police would be charging in any second now. She worried for them. There was a strong possibility that they'd be caught in the act and then the newspapers wouldn't resist a story like this. Tempest could just see the headlines now: Chaos at Ravencraft Theater, New York, New York. Do Demons Actually Exist? Living Proof and Eye-Witness Testimony Proves It. Read more on page three.

Tempest pushed her way through the throng of people packed tightly like sardines. Police cars were now in sight. Distinctly, she heard clicks of camera phones going off even above the sounds of traffic, whirring sirens, and chaos. Miraculously, she found a quiet place to think, and to cry.

Alone, the tears were free to fall as they willed. She couldn't stop them. Nor did she really want to. All her life, the theater was the one thing that made her truly happy. Her mom, rest her soul where ever it may be, began the dream. She instilled in her daughter a dream of being on stage. She took her to see plays from a very young age. Christina had hoped that if Tempest had something to dream and work for and something to make her forget her miseries, then she might be happy, both of them. But now what? The community at the Ravencraft Theater said it. She was better off being away the stage.

But that was all Tempest knew! That's all she ever knew. She lived and breathed acting. Her life would be empty without it. Unofficially, she'd been banned from acting. A kind of despair descended over her. The salty tears kept streaming down her cheeks even as she wished for them to stop so she wouldn't draw attention to herself. She couldn't stop crying. It was over. Her career was done. The star of hope faded before her eyes. Her dreams, dashed in just a few short minutes.

Tempest slumped to the cold, concrete ground, unable to stand by herself anymore. Everything was cold and cruel now. The ground, the brick wall behind her, the people, her life. Everything was lost and no light could be found. No silver-lining. No hope. No more dreams. No more ambition. She was done.

Bringing her knees closer to her, she wrapped her arms around her legs. She sat there, careful of her skirt, crying, sighing into her knees. Her body shivered from the non-existent cold chill washing over her.

"Do you need help, ma'am," a gentleman's voice asked her.

Tempest raised her head, and wiping away the tears from her eyes, she looked up to find a police officer standing an arm's length away from her.

A deep sense of fear rose up in her. Come to the think of it, how did he get here so quickly. She hadn't even heard the police cars' sirens go off. He couldn't have gotten here before his fellow officers. His uniform was a regular patrol unit. He couldn't be one of the policemen who used horses to move around. Besides, those officers were located near the parks. The Ravencraft Theater was nowhere near one of them.

"Let me see your badge number." Tempest replied sternly.

The policeman's eyes narrowed. He tried to grab her, but Tempest saw it coming and moved out of the way fast enough. She turned in the direction opposite of him. Sadly, there was but one escape route now and the phony policeman was guarding it.

"Be a good girl and come quietly now." He hissed.

It was in that moment Tempest saw him for what he really was. His eyes had a peculiar hue to them. A hue that was red like blood. Inside his skull were a pair of demon eyes, glowing hot red like the embers of hell.


	85. Chapter 81

Tempest stared at the imposter, shaking in her boots. But then, she froze. She hung her head low as if in defeat. The demon in question grinned at his prospects. The girl before him gave up easier and faster than anticipated. This was going to be easier than any one thought. His mistress, Alessandra, would be surprised to hear that Tempest had surrendered to quickly. However, why she gave up was unimportant. All he was assigned to do was to grab the girl and take her to Alessandra's lair.

He approached slowly just in case she changed her mind at the last minute and decided to put a fight.

"That's a good girl. We have no intention of hurting you, so long as you behave. No just come with me, nice and quiet," he grinned.

Tempest mumbled something under her breath. The demon pressed closer. Her face was smeared with the black eye-liner. The inky make-up ran down her cheeks. Her eyes and cheeks were red from her crying. Without all of that gunk on her face, he would have said she was a pretty girl.

"What was that little girl? Are you going to cry some more?" He hated it when women got emotional. Even if her father was the legendary Undertaker, her mother's blood ran through her veins too. Female demon had no such weaknesses, which was why when any other woman cried he found it annoying.

"No." Tempest said loudly and clearly.

Something flashed in the corner of his eye. He never suspected anything. When Tempest finally raised her head, he suddenly knew was it was like to be a pig skewered over a fire pit. His red eyes looked down to find half the length of a samurai sword protruding from his gut. Blood trickled over his lips. Their eyes met briefly.

"Let me tell you something. Today is just not the day to mess with me. The boy that I've been living with just told me today that he found a way to make himself older, which complicates things. My acting career is in the gutter, my make-up is ruined, the play is ruined, and some crazy French psycho-lady has utterly destroyed my chance at meeting Tim mother-fing Burton. I am in no mood to be playing DAMSEL IN DISTRESS!"

Tempest ripped the sword away from the demon without guilt about whether it hurt him or not. His pale arms went around his stomach in a sad attempt to stop the bleeding. The sword was the only thing that was holding it back and thus postponing the inevitable.

"S-silly little American thinks she can play with swords," the demon grimaced. He didn't even have enough strength to stand. A grim reaper sword was more than enough to take him down, a mid-level demon. "Your, your old man may be Undertaker, but you have the heart of a human. You're weak, pathetic. If it weren't for Phantomhive, you'd never be able to survive on your own."

"Is that why you're the one who's bleeding on the ground?" She held the sharp, blood-stained edge of the sword against his throat. "More to the point, I'm sick of you and everybody else in this world telling me that I'm weak. I've got things to do here and if I let a bunch of hideous demons stand in my way or have the Grim Reaper Society meddle in my life, then I guess I'm as weak as you say I am. However, I'm not. It's time I stopped acting brave and_ be _brave." Tempest sheathed the sword and left the demon to die.

She ran back towards the Ravencraft Theater, merely one block away. Police had finally arrived. Some of them kept the crowds at bay. The crowd had actually grown bigger in the time she had ran off to cry. Her grip around the handle of her sword tightened. Ciel had told her to stay away. However, things were different. She was done crying and done being pushed aside like some useless princess in a fairy-tale. Tempest, who never considered herself a cry-baby or childish, had realized how many times she cried, cried over how useless she was, how no one was around to protect her after her mother passed, how she couldn't stand on her own to feet and sheltered herself from the world. It was either run away now and get somewhere safe, like Ciel said, or prove that she could do things on her own. After all, she just killed off a demon on her own and she didn't throw up this time! That was a huge step in the right direction. However, how was she supposed to get inside now?

Police were moving their way in, but they were too busy keeping the people away. A captain was on the phone probably with somebody important. At least two people were dead. They might have thought there was a hostage situation going on inside. How little did they know.

Tempest sneaked around the block, but quickly. She didn't stop. She kept going. A few by-standers stopped in their tracks and stared at her. If it was anywhere else in the world, except Seattle, Washington, and a woman in theatrical costume with a samurai sword sprinted down the street would have been a strange sight. Thankfully, this was New York City. A lot of crazy and unusual things happened everyday.

Tempest sprinted through a back alley until she spotted the emergency exit to the Ravencraft Theater. She paused and checked around the perimeter. No cops, no wandering pedestrians trying to figure out what was going on. Sprinting again, the back exit was kicked open, sending off the alarms. Over that, she could hear destruction and chaos. Wooden was being broken, split with loud, heart-breaking thuds. Fabric was ripped with little compassion. What the hell were they doing to her theater!

She took extra precaution, but headed towards the stage area. The sword in her hands felt lighter than ever. Before it felt heavy in her hands. Perhaps it was Beatrix's training. Maybe it had never been heavy at all.

Climbing and jumping over discarded props and equipment, Tempest made her way slowly to the stage. She noticed the barber chair that would've been used in later scenes had been carelessly dropped to the floor in the mad haste to escape the theater. It looked almost sad to be have been discarded so and it never got the opportunity to be drenched in fake cherry-perfumed blood. Speaking of which, a gallon or two of fake blood sat on the floor, caps trampled beneath the feet of scurrying crewmen and actors. The sticky red contents painted the dusty wood floor. Some of it seeped through the floorboards. The sounds of battle grew louder and louder as she grew closer. She felt tense, but she wasn't afraid. Whether or not he liked it, Ciel was going to get help from her. She moved slowly towards the sounds, her heart pounding inside her chest. Her heart had never beat so quickly before. Then again, Tempest never did pay that much attention to the sound of her own heart beating.

Seats had been ripped out of their stations and were strewn across the theater. There was holes in the walls where bodies had been tossed against them. In the dark burgundy walls, impressions of human figures left scars. The plaster beneath could not be hidden. Plaster and white dust marred the walls like ugly scars. Light fixtures, beautiful hand-blown glass lamps mounted on brass posts, were likewise broken. Glass shards lined the aisle closest to the walls. And blood, the most important aspect, hung in the air like smog in San Francisco. It painted the walls, the seats, the floors. She didn't know exactly who it belonged to and to be frank she was afraid to know. That was the only thing she was afraid.

Beatrix turned her head away from the madwoman. Her cheeks were bloodied up. Streams of red didn't simply stream down her face, it flowed. Long scratches marred her face. The green orbs behind her glasses glared at Tempest from half way across the theater.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here? Didn't Ciel tell you to get out of here!"

Tempest down from the stage anyway, this time, using the small staircase instead of through the orchestra pit.

While Beatrix was busy glaring at Tempest, Lillian lunged at her, the dagger held high above her head. Beatrix noticed it only when it was too late. She mentally cursed and awaited the attack. Somehow, some way, the dagger was blocked. Beatrix looked up.

A blade still wet with blood clashed against Lillian's even bloodier one. A frustrated snarl escaped Lillian's lips. Beatrix turned slowly and found Tempest holding up her sword as high as she could to keep the dagger where it was. Lillian's short stature made it difficult to hold it up so high. She sneered and glared at her too, but out of unimagined rage and vexation.

"W-what?" Beatrix sounded surprised.

Tempest gave her small smile. "This lady owes me big time."

"For what, might I ask!" Lillian snapped angrily. Her thin arms were beginning to shake visibly. There wasn't much time left for her to hold out for very long.

"For messing up my chance to meet Tim Burton!" Tempest pushed all of her weight behind her sword.

The force of Tempest's push knocked Lillian off her feet. She tumbled to the floor, her skirts were the only thing that cushioned her fall. Her dagger, however, remained in her hand. It almost seemed to be glued to her hand. The blonde tresses fell in a uncontrollable and maddened way. Her dark dress was splattered with blood. Lillian had lost any sort of semblance of lady. She appeared to be nothing more than a madwoman. Her long hair hanging in front of her face only illustrated her increasingly insane nature and the way her eyes glowed like green fire in her skull would have any doctor send her to the loony bin.

Beatrix smiled back at Tempest. "I take it you're going to help me kick her arse," she pointed towards the witch with her thumb.

"I didn't come here for tea party." Tempest lowered her sword.


	86. Chapter 82

"What does a little girl like you think that you can accomplish, hm? Zere is no way you can beat me!" Lillian jumped back to her feet.

"You see, that's where you're wrong. There's one tiny little thing you don't know. A tiny every tourist needs to know when trolling through New York City," said Tempest.

"Oh really? And what's that?" Lillian growled.

"Don't screw around with the natives!" Tempest gripped the sword and the sheath in front of her. She took a few small steps until she was in front of Beatrix.

Lillian took this as a direct challenge. Without hesitating, she lunged again. Tempest braced herself and blocked Lillian's dagger again, but this time with the sheath. Both of their backs were straining forward, each putting all of their strength behind their weapon. The blade of the dagger began digging into the wooden sheath. The pretty-looking lacquer became damaged as the dagger continued to cuts its way through the coating and solid wood. Thinking fast, Tempest delivered a quick kick to Lillian's stomach, which was fairly easy. Once again, Lillian's height proved to be her greatest disadvantage. The heel of Tempest's boot made perfect contact as well as the flat bottom. The witch flew backwards and landed with a heavy thud. She rose slower than before.

The witch's breathing was rapid, but she couldn't have been that exhausted from fighting. Tempest didn't give her a chance to lunge at her twice. She ran forward with sword outstretched and aimed for her opponent. The blade sunk deep into Lillian's stomach. She didn't bleed. Instead, Lillian raised her arm again and her dagger was buried in Tempest's shoulder this time. The other woman leaped back, holding her hand over her shoulder. Her sword was roughly pulled out of Lillian's abdomen. Beatrix rushed to Tempest's side and wrenched the dagger out. Tempest yelped in pain, but she refused to show the witch that she had severely injured her. All the while, Tempest wondered where Ciel was.

On cue, he called out her name. Sebastian and Alessandra were duking it out on the other side of the theater. Alessandra was winning. His uniform had been torn to ribbon by his fellow demon's claws. His tailcoat was barely clinging to his body by shreds of black fabric. The whiteness of his starched, pressed, and bleached shirt was replaced with the redness of blood. Some of it might have actually belonged to Alessandra, but there was no way to tell for certain. She was strong. Her wounds were barely visible. While he managed to deal her some damage, her relentless spirit and sheer speed made it nearly impossible to strike her down and move out of the way. Sebastian himself had to admit that she was good, almost too good.

Ciel kicked Alessandra squarely on the back of her head, temporarily disorienting the demoness. Sebastian finished her off with another blow while her arms were occupied with holding her head. His hands were painted with her blood as he tore through fabric and flesh. Alessandra appeared surprised, but sank to the floor among the corpse she created earlier.

In the mean time, Ciel sped around the whole of a section to reach Tempest's aisle. Sebastian reached it before him and gently pushed Tempest aside. He straightened his coat as best he could, however there was no way for him to fix his appearance at the moment. Nevertheless, he flattened his collar against the body of the coat and adjusted the sleeves accordingly.

"Madame, it would be wise to give up your attempts at revenge. Your outnumbered and your ally is dead. In memory of our friendship, I am willing to offer you a choice. You can give up and leave New York and _never _return or I kill you. However, if my master so orders me, I can..."

Sebastian was cut off short by Tempest's screaming.

"CIEL!"

A black shadow jumped over him and nearly took him down...except something extraordinary happened.

The black shadow as it turned out to be Alessandra, who either raised herself from the dead or Sebastian didn't do a proper job of killing her. Either way, she sprang up from the pile of dead men and ran after Ciel. Tempest managed to see her move while Sebastian was busy trying to make a deal with Lillian. While the butler was thoroughly distracted, he failed to notice the insufficiency of his execution. Alessandra sprinted after the one thing that mattered to Sebastian, well sort of. Their contract was still in tact after one-hundred and twenty-three years. Allowing his master to be severely injured was certainly not in the contract. But was mentioned earlier, something extraordinary happened. Something no one, not even a witch, could predict.

Tempest, despite her injury, jumped in front of him.


	87. Chapter 83

Alessandra's extended claws met instead with Tempest's flesh and blood. The demoness jumped back, but with a wide grin spread across her face. Tempest slowly fell to the floor like a helpless rag doll. Ciel went behind and grabbed onto her so her fall wouldn't hurt so much.

"Dear god, look at her blood!" Beatrix shouted and pointed the would on her shoulder.

All eyes, except Lillian's, were drawn to Tempest, who was currently weaving in and out of consciousness. The deep red of her blood was turning darker and darker still with each passing second. In a matter of seconds, her red blood turned black as night. It seeped through the costume's fabric, both on the sleeve and dribbled down the front. The wound became something entirely disgusting and bizarre. The wound on her shoulder and on chest didn't bleed like a normal person's. They bubbled and flowed with thick, inky-black blood. The scene was something out of a horror film. Ciel had been worried about what her powers or abilities would be since Tempest was a supernatural oxymoron. But he'd never imagined this.

Beatrix joined him at her side. Tempest's eyes were becoming blurry and dulled. Her head was rolling side to side and bobbing. Short, heavy, and inconsistent breathing escaped her pale lips. Everything about her turned pale. Her lips, her skin, even her eyes took on a new paleness. Black blood dribbled between her lips. She began hacking and coughing more of the foul blood in her system.

"Tempest, come on, girly, you have to stay with us." Beatrix chanted in a desperate attempt to the girl from falling into unconsciousness.

Alessandra grin faded immediately when she saw the girl's blood turn black. Grim reaper's blood was red, just like a living human beings and just like hers. Blood was red. It was a fact of nature. There was no distinction of color between the species. However, the girl's blood turned black, an awful black that even made Alessandra dry heave a little. She watched as the grim reaper and Phantomhive harp over the injured woman. Then, she noticed a strange tingling sensation beginning at the tips of her fingers. Slowly, Alessandra raised her hand up to eye-level.

The tinging began as if she fell asleep on her hand. The whole of her fingers turned cold as ice. Blood rushed away from her fingers and her knuckles refused to bend. She griped her wrist nervously and looked up at the woman who was still coming and going out of consciousness. Sebastian was marching towards her. As for Lillian, the crazy witch scurried off with her tail between her legs. No body seemed to notice. Sebastian and Alessandra's eyes locked. She looked at her hand again. Her fingers were coated with the thick blood. There was so much and it was so dark that she couldn't even see her own skin underneath. The strange blood didn't just coat her fingers, it completely blotted out her skin. She noticed drops on the cuff of her jacket.

Sebastian had an evil grin on his face. He had a reputation and Alessandra was well aware of it. This demon was not one to be taken lightly, she had been told. She had tried to proceed with caution since he was involved with Undertaker's daughter, only insomuch that he served Ciel Phantomhive, who was drawn to the oxymoron of the supernatural world like a moth to the flame. Alessandra thought she could reason with him. After all, they were both demons and were almost the same age. Surely, she thought, I could make a bargain with him. Alas, that was not the case. Now, he had murder in his eyes. Not so much out of the loyalty, affection, or a need to defend the girl. No, Sebastian wasn't like that. No demon would stick their neck out for some girl, unless they were under a contract. However, even under a contract, any such loyalty was derived from loyalty to the contract, not to the contractee. Sebastian wanted to kill her for the fun of it. Avenging Tempest's serious injuries just so happened to be a very good reason, or rather, justification for it, even if it was a fake justification. It would make a very good cover story.

"Come on, good sir. Perhaps we can make an arrangement," she tried to reason with him, all the while ignoring the prickly feeling growing in intensity in her fingers. She shook her hand to loosen up her hand.

"There shall be no arrangement." Sebastian's eyes turned to a deadly shade of magenta.

Alessandra swallowed hard. She was still bleeding from his earlier attack and now one of her arms was useless. What was that girl's blood doing to her hand?  
The demoness, nevertheless, continued to think of things to say, things that might persuade him to at least sparing her life. The prickly feeling felt like a thousand and one needles jabbing mercilessly into her fingers. She shook her hand wildly.

"Sebastian Michaelis, we are brothers in arms, so to speak. Think of the possibilities for you and your master. All the souls one could devour, if not for you, but for your master. Surely, he's sick of eating the souls of the scum of the earth. He could have anyone he wanted!"

The demon-butler was unmoved by her proposals. And her damn hand wasn't getting any better!

"Is there something wrong with your hand, Alessandra?" Sebastian asked in a patronizing tone. He couldn't care less if her hand was injured somehow. It wouldn't matter in the next few minutes.

"N-no, of course not," Alessandra replied nervously. She was lying through her teeth. The pain in her fingers spread to her whole hand. Her hand burned like fire. She couldn't shake it off so easily as if her hand had simply fallen asleep.


	88. Chapter 84

Tempest weaved in and out of consciousness. The world was spinning, from what she could see of it, that is. Her eyes were blurred. Gray clouds moved back and forth in front of her eyes. The more these clouds moved, the dizzier she became. She felt something cold and wet dripping down her arm and chest, but she couldn't see it. She could hardly see anything. Faintly, she heard Beatrix's voice screaming.

_What happened? What did I just do and why do I feel as if I'm choking? My throat...it feels so tight._

She gasped for air, her shaking hand went to her throat. Air managed to enter, but with great difficulty. Even worse, she couldn't exhale properly. She could hardly breath and her body kept getting colder. Her body felt like ice even though her wounds burned like fire.

She heard a woman screaming.

_Who is that? Is that Beatrix? Is she alright? I can't see anything. I can hardly hear anything._

The clouds in front of her eyes became darker. Soon, her vision was engulfed entirely in darkness. Her throat felt tighter like someone was choking her. Did Alessandra finally get a hand on her? Did she have her bony fingers twisted around her neck? And where was Ciel in all this?

Inhaling sharply through her nostrils, Tempest tried to forcefully make herself breath deeply, inhaling and exhaling with all of her might. However, this only created more problems. It didn't help the choking sensation around her throat and her lungs couldn't take the torture for very long. Tempest stopped against once. Her breathed slowed to a low whizzing and began coughing. Something icy-cold dribbled down her chin. Tempest felt that her mouth was being filled with something wet, and it wasn't water or her own saliva. No, something foul was running up her throat and made its way into her mouth. This stuff tasted like it felt, awful, and it smelled of death.

She couldn't hold it much longer. Her gag reflex kicked in and she turned to her side and vomited whatever it was that forced its way into her mouth. Every muscle shook violently. She didn't know what was going on or why her body was reacting the way it did. For all she knew, this was what happened when grim reapers get attacked.

There was more screaming. A woman was in great agony. Her ear-splitting screams reached even Tempest, who was in and out of consciousness and could barely register what the sound was. Tempest's cognitive processes were slowly shutting down. She knew that a woman was in pain and she was screaming from it, however, Tempest didn't know who it was. It could have been Alessandra for all she knew, and hoped.

She fell back again, this time she had no strength left in her. Tempest struggled to breath, but she let her world turn black. There wasn't enough left in her to hold it back any longer. She allowed for her eyelids to droop until they were close and she drifted off into the deepest slumber she ever fell into.

* * *

Sebastian watched in disgusted awe as the she-demon Alessandra tried to hide her obvious pain. Her hand was coated in Tempest's blood. Anyone with eyes could see that was not normal, not human. In a few short minutes, it went from red to pitch-black. Alessandra's hand wasn't painted red, but black, like she had accidentally dipped all of her fingers save her thumb into a vat of ink. Not even her fingernails could be seen; the strange blood was that opaque.

Sweat didn't just drip down her forehead, it came down like diamonds. Sebastian watched each individual bead take shape above her brow and trickle quickly down her face. Her breathing became rapid. Her wound was healing much slower than it should have been. Even if his blow wasn't good enough to kill her, the wound should have healed itself by now. If she was strong enough to survive that, she should have stopped bleeding. That was not the case. It seemed to be the opposite in fact. As she held onto her good arm, her red blood seeped through her heavy black business suit. It didn't stop; it kept flowing.

"You're either extremely strong or extremely stubborn, though I doubt it matters much now. I shall be killing you shortly. You are at the end of your line. You know you're going to die, so I must insist that you be content with this." Sebastian took a few short steps towards her.

"Why are you protecting her! She's a freak of nature! Look at my hand! She's not even a grim reaper, much less a human!" Alessandra couldn't even think of a reason to tell her approaching enemy to let her live.

"I owe her nothing. I do not owe her loyalty. It is merely upon my master's order that I do such things. Although, I must ask you one thing. Did you really kill your own brother?"

Alessandra glared at him. "Tsk. Of course, I did! We're both demons. Surely, you know how it works for us. We're the living examples of the phrase, 'dog eat dog world.' He was a fool. Looking on it now, I did him a favor. There's no way he'd be able to handle the likes of _her._" She added with a hiss.

"How is your arm by the way?" He asked, mockingly.

"Why you rotten bas..."Alessandra was stunned by something. A fiery heat like hell shot up her arm. She raised it up, but found that she could barely do that. Each and every inch of her arm, down even to the marrow in her bones was on fire. She could lift it no higher than an inch or two.

Then...things got seriously grotesque.

Her blackened fingers started...dissolving.

Naturally, Alessandra screamed, screamed in pain and in utter shock at the situation. The blood on her hands, Tempest's black blood, was eating at her flesh. The blood was somehow able to eat at her skin and the muscle beneath, dissolving them like a sugar cube in a glass of water. All that was left were the scrawny, white bones beneath all of her flesh and blood. Sebastian watched from a distance. The scene belonged in a horror movie.

Alessandra's flesh continued being eaten away, beyond her fingers and down her hand. Her screams only grew in intensity. There was no stopping it, so it seemed. The blood dissolving her flesh couldn't stop. It wouldn't stop until the whole of her body was nothing but a pile of bones. However, there was only one way to keep it from spreading that far. The she-demon gripped her arm with a steely hand. With one sharp, bone-splitting crunch, the already injured Alessandra wrenched away her own arm like it was a infected member. Her bloodied hand tossed the thing just as it was being eaten. Her eyes and Sebastian's watched as it was slowly devoured. All that was left were bones and a ruined suit jacket.

Alessandra knew that it was over for her. She had one arm, a bleeding chest, and she was too weak. There was no fighting it now. If she hadn't been forced to tear off her arm, then she might have stood a good a chance. The whole thing now, this whole scene, a Passion play if you will, was a waste of time and resources. At least seven humans were killed and the grand prize was forever out of her reach. Her brother was most likely sitting on the edge of hell, waiting for her. She imagined that he had a greedy look on his face. He wanted to see her there; he wanted her with him so he could get revenge.

"Have you conceded yet?" Sebastian's voice brought her back to reality.

She smiled and laughed for the last time. Alessandra laughed so hard, she held her head back. Her harsh laughter filled the theater. It bounced around the walls. She wiped sweat from her face when she had her fill.

"I won't be the last. There will be more. There will _always _be more. I just feel sorry for the losers who will try after I'm long gone. Just know that I'll have a front row seat in hell, watching for you or your master to screw up!" Said Alessandra with a deep maniacal voice.

She didn't care if she lived or died now.

"That's quite enough of that now." Sebastian moved quickly, ending it with one more blow.

He successfully snapped her neck, severing the spine and the base of the skull. In a way, a literal decapitation, only visually the head remained attached to the body. Literal decapitation didn't necessarily mean removing the head from the whole body. Sometimes it could mean the severing of the brain from the spinal cord. Sever the brain from the spinal cord, and you achieve the same affect as the guillotine or the ax.

"Now that that's settled," he straightened his tailcoat.

Ciel and Beatrix cradled Tempest's unconscious body between them. Sebastian looked around the theater. Neither Lillian nor Jacobi were present. They simply vanished in the chaos. He removed the remains of his coat and placed it over Tempest's front. The remains of his coat still managed to cover both of her wounds.

"You mustn't touch her blood. Apparently, it turns living flesh to bone." He answered for his seeming strange action.

"It-it what?" Beatrix looked both dismayed and upset.

"It turns flesh into bone. If you don't believe me, fetch Miss Alessandra's arm to see for yourself."

The theater's front doors were kicked in.

"There's no time. The police are here." Ciel stood up at once.


	89. Chapter 85

They barely managed to escape. Just by the skin of their noses, they slipped past the charging police. A second later they would have been seen and possibly hauled in for questioning. It's very difficult to look innocent when you have a dead woman on the floor and two of you are covered in blood. The police burst in just as they scrambled out the back. Getting to the car took more time, however. It was difficult hiding a bleeding, unconscious woman in one's arms, especially if her blood was black. Sebastian's coat served nicely in preventing any of her blood from touching anyone's skin. It seemed to only effect others. Tempest still had plenty of flesh, although it made sense that her own blood wouldn't turn her to a pile of bones.

It was late in the evening by the time they got back inside the manor. Tempest was immediately taken to Jacobi's room. Her pulse was checked. She was still alive, though that was to be expected. However, she gave sufficient cause to worry. Her breathing was shallow, low, and irregular. The color of her skin was not the usual pale complexion, but a ghostly white and it felt cold, freezing to be more accurate, to the touch. The blood flow slowed down much to everyone's relief. As soon as it stopped, they do more than pat down the wounds with damp cloths. They wanted to help, but not at the risk of their limbs. Tempest wouldn't be too happy about it.

Beatrix remained at her side, holding onto her hand. She was a tough woman, almost nothing made her cry. The sight of Tempest laying helplessly on the bed shook Beatrix to her core. She didn't have sisters or even one female cousin. In a short while, she had become so acquainted with the younger woman that she was practically her sibling.

Speaking of family, what would her father say?

Beatrix winced at the thought of telling Undertaker what happened. Last time she saw him, he pretty much threatened her to keep his kid safe. She failed miserably. She could feel Undertaker's sharp blade already pressing against her neck.

Turning, she found Ciel standing at the door.

"You know we have to tell him." Ciel approached the bed.

"He'll be mad as hell."

"Most likely." Ciel added.

"He won't be easy to talk with. He's Undertaker. Who knows what he'll do? He might try to take both our heads." Beatrix touched her neck, remembering Undertaker's scythe's cold blade against her throat. Those cold, green eyes of his. That creepy, threatening smile. His imposing aura. She dreaded making that phone call.

"He won't lay a finger on either one of us. Well, at least not me."

Beatrix rose abruptly from her chair at the bedside. "You didn't exactly help either! You could've jumped in front of her when you saw her! You're a demon for god's sake. You should be faster than that!"

Ciel glared at her, his one visible eye turning magenta. "This is not the time to be yelling at each others throats, but if you want to fight then by all means, go for it."

Beatrix glared back, but she didn't even open her mouth in protest. She couldn't say anything else. Nope, not a thing, which wasn't like her at all. Usually Beatrix would have a decent come-back, a good one-liner, but not today. Instead of going back to her chair, she brushed past him and slammed the door behind her.

His eye returned to normal and Ciel took Beatrix's face. He watched Tempest's chest rise and fall in rapid succession. Even breathing must have been painful for her. His eyes found the blackened wounds. Is that what happened when Death mated with Life? He watched Alessandra's arm turn to bone, while her clothing remained unharmed. Was this what the Grim Reaper Society as so afraid of? Her blood turned a she-demon's arm to bone. It ate away at her flesh until there was nothing left. If Alessandra hadn't been so smart, the rest of her body would have met the same fate.

There was a rapping at the door.

"Enter." Said Ciel with a sneer.

Sebastian entered in a white-washed tailored shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He brought along with him the antique serving cart, but instead of an array of sweets and crumpets, it carried medical supplies, a large bowl of water, and a few wash towels. Ciel noticed a couple of instruments that caught his attention. Some medical thread for stitches and a needle. The chair was moved to the other side of the bed by the butler.

"We must get to work immediately. I am afraid that I must ask you to leave, sir. It will become rather gruesome."

"No." Ciel replied firmly.

"No?"

Ciel gave him a hard stare, went around to the opposite side, and situated himself in the chair his butler just moved.

"I'm not going anywhere and don't tell me otherwise. That's an order."

Sebastian sighed. "Very well, sir."

He slipped on a pair of gloves. He went to the first button on Tempest's blouse. Sebastian looked up at Ciel, looking for some kind of reaction. His young master stayed inhumanly still. He knew what his butler was about to do. There was nothing to be done about the wounds in her shoulder and chest so long as her clothes were in the way. Ciel nodded for him to continue.

Sebastian went to work, undoing the buttons quickly and carefully. The ruined garment was shed and tossed to the floor beside his feet. There was a gaping gash in her shoulder from Lilian's dagger and a small sickle-shape scar in her chest. Alessandra attacked with her fingers clamped together, making that shape. There was so much blood, though it had the appearance of ink or paint. Alessandra most likely broke her sternum and there was defiantly damage to the clavicle bone.

The loss of the outer most part of her clothing seemed to make it easier for Tempest to breathe. Her breathing became rapid and deeper, but they weren't out of the woods yet. She still wore a flimsy tank top and a bra underneath that. Sebastian hesitated briefly before removing only the top. He turned to the push-cart and grabbed a washcloth. The cloth was soaked in the bowl for several minutes. He wrung it until it didn't drip and returned to his patient's bedside.

The bleeding stopped. The wounds were carefully dabbed with the washcloth. Agonized moans escaped Tempest's lips. She was quite conscious of pain apparently. This went on for several minutes. Sebastian routinely rinsed the wash cloth in the bowl of water until it was nothing but a dull inky color. When her skin was cleaned off, he reached for the thread and needle.

Ciel swallowed hard. A lump formed in the middle of his throat as Sebastian threaded the needle. Ciel grabbed Tempest's hand and held onto it as tight as he possibly could without harming her further.

Sebastian carefully began sewing up the gash on her shoulder first. Tempest stirred, sucking in her breath sharply through her nose as the needle and thread first stitch closed her wound. Her eyelids fluttered open, but only just a little.

"C-iel?" Her head was turned towards him.

Ciel could only look at her pitifully. The color of her eyes was dulled. Her bright blue eyes did not shine like they used to.

He said nothing. He focused on her eyes and held her hand. She picked a wrong time to wake up.

Sebastian noticed that she woke up, and sewed up the gash as quickly as possible. But the rushed job of it caused her even more discomfort. Her hands gripped onto whatever was nearest to her. She gripped Ciel's hand with a painfully strong hold. Her nails dug into the back of his hand, nearly cutting into him and shedding blood. Sebastian tied off the thread.

"That's finished." He threaded the needle with a new, clean length. His hands moved towards the sickle-shaped wound in the middle of her chest, just above her breasts.

Tempest groaned in protest.

"Bare with it, Miss Tempest. It is only for a little while longer." Sebastian ignored her and still proceeded to stitch up the other wound.


	90. Chapter 86

Just so you know, the following chapters will be episodes of Tempest's past. For reference and those who may not remember previous chapters, Tempest changed her name from Emilie McIntyre. That was her name before the story began. Do not be alarmed when you see that name in the next couple of chapters. Same OC character, just younger. The following chapters are meant to be like flashbacks. I personally was not satisfied with how I wrote the back story for Tempest earlier. Anyway, please enjoy.

* * *

_The red glare of the alarm was mocking her. Emilie stared at it, even though she knew that watching the time wouldn't make her fall asleep faster. She was lying on her side. One minute passed after midnight. Her eyes looked across the room at her roommate, the McDonald's actual daughter. The much younger girl slept soundly in her bed. She was snuggled comfortably underneath her pink Barbie flannel blanket. Emilie couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. The little girl sleeping on the other side of the room had everything she didn't. A family, two parents, grandparents who loved her, a home of her own. Emilie was nothing more than some extra-income and a house guest. No one could take her in. Her uncle was in prison and her grandfather was too old to take care of her. Lucy McDonald, however, not only had a home that she belonged to, she had a huge family. _

_Emilie looked back at her alarm clock. Another minuted passed. _

_Tomorrow, well today rather, would serve as a painful reminder of why she was a foster kid. It was her mom's birthday. She died just last year. She died after feeding her soul to a devil. Grandma was rolling in her grave. _

_Emilie pulled the covers away from her. She went to her drawers and pulled out a change of clothes. As she undressed and redressed, she kept an eye on the girl in bed. The little girl slept soundly; she never stirred. Emilie picked up a pair of tennis shoes, grabbed her house keys sitting on her desk, and crept noiselessly, carefully closing the door behind her. All the lights were out in the house. She took her jacket hanging by the door. She checked the pockets, knowing that her wore it earlier and most of the time she left her wallet inside. Thankfully, it was where she left it, in the right pocket. The jacket was slipped on. Emilie unlocked the door and waited. There was not a sound made from the rest of the house. She locked it from the outside. There was no need to tie the laces. It was the kind of tennis shoes that could be slipped on and off, which perfectly suited to Emilie's needs. _

_With her new eyes, the eyes that allowed her to see everything. She memorized all the maps. New York was her playground. At least for the next two or three hours, until five in the morning when everyone else would start waking up to get to school and work. Emilie was a quiet girl. They wouldn't suspect anything unless she was caught. _

_The bus stop wasn't far at all. Emilie walked over there, not even caring if any bystander was watching. She pulled the hood up to cover her face, nevertheless. She stood there for twenty minutes until a silver bus pulled up. She fiddled with the contents in her wallet for a couple of minutes. The driver gave her a strange look. She probably guessed how old Emilie may have been, but didn't consider it part of her job. She merely shook her head as if to say, 'kids these days' or something along those lines. Emilie placed the correct amount of change in the machine. The driver promptly handed her a ticket. The bus was put in drive and Emilie got into a seat along the side of the bus. There were four other passengers. One of them, an older man, looked at her with dark eyes. The kind of eyes that kept most women and children away. She glared at him. _

"_Keep your hands to yourself, jerk. I'm underage." Said she. _

_Immediately, the older man looked away. He stared down at his lap and nevermore lifted his head. The three other passengers stared at him._

_Soon after, Emilie pulled the cord. The bus pulled to a slow stop. She walked out into the street hugging her jacket close to her. A seedy liquor store stood across the street from her after the bus zoomed past. Emilie stood there at the bus stop, beneath the roof of a plexiglass shelter. The building across the way was shadowed on either side. It was a lonely place, being the only operating building. The rest were closed or just plainly closed down for good. There were iron bars on the door and windows. Hanging against the windows, blocked partially by by the bars, neon signs advertized different kinds of alcoholic drinks. _

_Emilie wondered what they tasted like. She'd heard the parties other high schoolers had. She knew what happened. Illegal booze and unsupervised parties went hand in hand She was also made fun of because she never went there, to parties. Then, she remembered the cash in her wallet and noticed the shady characters leaning against the wall of the liquor store in the darkened alley, barely illuminated by the lamp-post flickering on and off. A young man, about 20 years old, with long, dark hair tied in a pony-tail. He had tan skin and brown eyes, though they could have been dark green. _

_His hair was so dark in the alley it appeared black. Emilie touched her own hair, the hair she inherited from her mother. _

_She walked boldly across the street. The man in the alley smiled, but when she got closer, he noticed how young she actually looked. _

"_Does your mom know where you are?" He asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets._

"_She's dead." Emilie replied bluntly. "But does it matter to you?" _

"_Not in the least, kid. Now get on home before somebody worries." The man pulled out a carton of cigarettes._

_Emilie remained where she was, looking at him intently. He ignored her even as she leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded across her chest. The spark of his zippo lighter flickered in front of his face. Emilie could now see that his eyes were a forest green, not brown. She thought that his eyes were pretty in the flame. He held a cigarette between his teeth. The cigarette hissed as the butt made contact with the flame. The lighter and carton were placed back inside his coat. He inhaled deeply, then looking up he found Emilie still standing there. _

"_You're stubborn, you know that?" _

"_I'm very aware of it. I heard that I got it from my mom." _

"_What about your old man? Surely, he's gonna notice you're not tucked in bed." _

_Emilie glared at him. "I don't have one. My mom got knocked up and she never gave up the name." _

"_Doesn't mean you should be sneaking out in the middle of the night, looking for trouble." _

"_Not looking for trouble. Just looking for a favor." _

_The shady man exhaled a long stream of smoke. His right brow was raised then lowered. He looked at her confused. _

"_A favor?" _

_Emilie nodded. _

"_What kind of favor?" _

_She didn't move from her spot, but she nodded towards the liquor store._

"_I'm an underage teenager, curious about alcohol, standing outside a liquor store at half-past midnight. What kind of favor do you think I'm asking for?" _

_The man shook his head, chuckling. "Are you asking me to buy you alcohol? If you get caught, how I am I to know whether or not you're going to rat me out? Are you the kind of girl who's going to do that?"_

_Emilie remained stoic. "Unlike some other kids, I'm smart. I won't get caught." _

_She fished out her wallet. Her fingers produced a few bills. The wallet was stuffed back inside her jacket. She had, maybe, thirty bucks on her. _

"_It's not much, but it's all I have. I've got to get on a bus too."_

_He eyed the money in her hand. _

"_You won't get caught, uh?" He left the wall he was leaning against. He snatched the cash from her hand. The man walked towards the liquor store. "I'll hold you to that."_

_Emilie's heart began to race. She hadn't been nervous when she made the offer. She wasn't nervous when she crossed the street and started talking to some stranger. She didn't even know his name. Her hand didn't even shake, not even a little, when she pulled out nearly all of her money. Yet now she was shaking. From her shoulders to the tips of her toes, a rigid jumpiness took over. Her pulse raced. Her breathing was rushed. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. _

_Emilie looked from the corner of her eye, checking for cops. The man returned, with a brown bag in his hand. He checked around and entered the alley. She straightened up as he walked up to her. He handed her the bottle to her. Emilie tucked it inside her jacket. She zipped up her jacket and began walking away. _

"_Don't get caught, kid." He said after her._


	91. Chapter 87

_Emilie walked away from the liquor store, not looking back. She thanked the stranger, but didn't look at his face. She glanced over her shoulder to say it, however, her eyes avoided contact. The bottle rested very close to her skin. She wanted to get this experience over and down with and just sneak back home before it was too late. _

_She wandered around until she found a small park. It was dark. The lamps lining the dirty path were not all lit. Some didn't weren't even on. Emilie walked in anyway. She took a seat on a rickety, wooden bench, not far from the gate she just entered. If trouble reared its ugly head, she would at least know how to get out of its way. The zipper was undone. Her shaking hands managed to unscrew the metal cap. She hesitantly held the glass bottle to her lips. Slowly, very so slowly, Emilie tipped the bottle downwards until the contents ran down her tongue. Her first sip was only a mouthful. She swallowed and her cheeks felt warm suddenly. There was a tiny buzz going off inside her body and briefly she forgot her worries. She forgot what that day marked. She forgot how much it hurt, to be alone in the city, without her mother, without a family to call her own. She swallowed another mouthful._

_The cool night air brushed against her face while she leaned her head back. Her head rested on the back of the bench. She looked up at the dark sky, counting the stars. It didn't take long. This was New York City. Even on the darkest nights, you could only find one or two stars up in the sky. You'd have to send the whole city and the suburbs into a complete black-out in order find any more. The city was too bright for the stars. The branches of the trees looked black in the night. They lined around her vision, outlining the sky like a picture frame. They swayed in the midnight wind. _

_Grabbing the bottle tightly, Emilie drank some more. This time she didn't just take a sip, she gulped it down. Fire danced across her skin. She remembered that she never asked the man what he bought. It didn't seem to matter then or now. The liquor felt right. It was sweet and warm and soothed her. Nothing else seemed to work, but this did. It warmed her whole body, even in the dead of the night in the middle of October. What mattered right now was letting it sink in, letting all of it melt away. _

_She waited for a while in the darkness; her face flushed. It was a calm, quiet night. However, something in her gut told her to put the bottle away and get her butt home. Something in the air didn't sit well with her. Perhaps it was the fact that it was a _calm _and _quiet_ night that worried her. For what little senses she had left, Emilie wandered why it was unusually calm out. There were no sirens. No people. No animals. It was in the middle of the night, yes, but this was also the 'city that never sleeps.' Something was going on somewhere. A petty crime, a premier, a party, there was also something. But that's what worried her. Emilie dumped the rest of the contents in the grass. She didn't want to get completely wasted. The deep-seated feeling in her gut kept bugging her. Something was wrong. She could feel it in the air. _

_Emilie looked all around her. She wasn't even drunk. The bottle had over half of it left. She was buzzed, but her senses were still good. _

_Footsteps were coming up from the opposite end of the park. They were heavy. They came closer and closer. Her heart started racing again. Was it a cop?_

"_Drowning your sorrows in alcohol, lovely? Your mother wouldn't be too happy about that." _

_The color drained from her face. She knew that voice. Emilie remembered every voice she ever heard. Her memory stored them very well. Even though she could see now, she could remember many voices she heard when she was blind. The sound of _his _voice sent new chills up her spine. She looked towards the sound of the approaching feet. A young man with black hair and red eyes was coming towards her. Darkness radiated off him. He exuded evil. Emilie stared at him, unable to move. Her hands grabbed hold of the bench until her fingernails dug into the cracking wood. Her breath was held captive in her chest. She couldn't breathe. It was as if she was being strangled by the power and darkness pouring off of him. _

_Finally, he knelt on one knee beside her. Her lips trembled. The man, no, this demon, smiled at her. There was a flash of silver teeth that glimmered in the shadows of the night. _

_He took his pale hand and enveloped hers. _

"_Do you remember me, lovely? Do you know who I am?" _

_Emilie couldn't reply at first. Her mind was sent reeling to the year before. He had surprised her that day. She couldn't see his face, but his voice she couldn't forget. It sounded so sweet and innocent, but it had dark undertones. Emilie wanted nothing more than to rip her hands away from his and start running. She found that idea to be impossible. She couldn't run anywhere. Her legs, her arms, her whole body was frozen with fear. She couldn't even move her pinky if she wanted to. _

"_Y-you...I remember you. You assaulted me in my own apartment building!" Her voice went weak. The red of his eyes burrowed deep into her. _

_His face leaned closer to hers. Their noses nearly touched and his blood-colored eyes looked at her as if she was a tasty meal. And that frightened her the most. _

"_Assaulted is a very cruel thing to say. If I wanted to assault you, I would have done something more like this..."_

_The man pulled her up forcibly and in the blink of an eye, Emilie was on the damp grass beside the bench. She was staring up at the sky for only a second before his face blocked her view. His long legs kept her from kicking. He held both her wrists above her head. The demon stared down at her with a hungry look, even licking his lips. Emilie couldn't help but shudder beneath his weight. _

_He released one of his hands and it caressed the side of her face. _

"_Do you know why I picked you? Out of all the women in the world I could have, I picked some like _you_? A girl from New York City, one out of a million others, an illegitimate daughter. No family, an orphan. Not a penny to your name. Sure you're pretty, but not even you could get by on looks. You're tough, but on the inside you have a soft, delectable center." _

"_You don't know anything about me! So don't be so presumptive!" Emilie immediately regretted what she said. _

_Her outburst only made him more excited. _

They're never any fun unless you let them fight back a little,_ he thought._

"_So, my pretty little song bird has a spine? You have courage. That's good. You have strength. That's even better. It will make it so much easier for you in this cold, cruel world. Tell me, sweeting, does that family you're staying with treat you well? Did the McDonald's give you a nice home?"_

_Emilie stared up into his cruel red eyes. Her jaw could have dropped. _

"_H-how did you k-k-know about them?" She lost her earlier confidence and retreated back to a frightened girl. _

_The demon pressed his forehead against hers. His hot breath ran across her lips, but his didn't make contact with hers. _

"_I have my ways," he chuckled, "I like to keep tabs on what happens to my property. I want you, plain and simple and I'm not the kind of demon who's going to let a dove like you fly away so easily." _

_One of his knees was brought between her thighs. His free hand ran down her body and slipped underneath her. He groped her from behind, lifting the lower part of her body towards his. The redness of his eyes turned darker, like the flames of hell stood behind him. _

"_Even if you aren't a virgin anymore,I'll still have you. You have a special something buried deep within your soul and I intend to find out what it is. I want to know what makes you so damn alluring without even trying. Believe me, I've tried to move on, but it seems you have a magnetic pull. I can't stay away for long. Those big blue eyes of yours only make you that much more beautiful. I'm glad that I picked that color for you."_

_Emilie stared at him. Never minding that fact that he had his hand on her buttocks and was about to rape her, she stared at him with a confused and angry look in her eyes. _

"_You picked out the color...for my eyes?"_

"_Yes," he answered with a greedy smile, "I thought that blue would look stunning with your black. Your mother said she couldn't care less as long as you were able to see, that and she said it wouldn't matter. She was going to die anyway."_

"_What the hell did you do to my mom?" Emilie felt this burning fire in her stomach and throat. Something angry gotten into her like she was possessed by one of the seven deadly sins, wrath. Her fear of the demon subsided, temporarily. Never mind that he had her beneath him. Never mind that he was a strong demon. _

"_I ate her soul." _

_Her eyes became saucepans. Those four words not only broke her heart, they shattered her entire being. Her soul and body were filled with nothing but hatred and a burning rage that could not be cooled. _

"_Y-you killed her?" It was more of a statement than a question. _

"_Yes. I wouldn't have minded if you were blind, but she wanted you to be able to see with normal eyes. She was quite persistent, actually. But all this talk about your dead mother is killing the mood. Be a good girl and relax for me. When we're done here, I'll take you someplace far away and you'll have everything you could ever want." The demon lowered his face so that his lips were touching her neck. _

_His cold lips left trails of chills along her skin. She wanted to vomit. Nothing about him was attractive. Rather than give in quickly, she was repulsed by everything about him and everything that he was. Demon or a human, it didn't matter. If he murdered her mother, she'd never let him lay a finger on her willingly. He could have been Satan himself and she wouldn't let him take her so easily. She had hatred and revenge on the brain. Emilie began fighting him back. She flung her body this way and that. His hand kept a good, tight grip on her wrists. He wouldn't let her go. His inhuman strength would win in the end. She was just a human after all. _

"_Careful, darling," his breath blew across her ear, nearly freezing the blood in her veins, "if you keep that up, we'll have to skip the foreplay and get to the best part." _

_Emilie stopped moving. The last thing she wanted to do was make the situation move any faster. _

_Her breath hitched in her throat as his lips descended down her neck, inching closer to the top of her chest. A twig snapped, but it seemed she was the only one who heard it. The demon moved his lips slowly down. His hand reached up and moved on top of her shirt, pulling down the collar to give him more access. Emilie's muscles gave out. She couldn't fight him off anymore. She was too weak. Tears bubbled. _

_A black shape appeared against the trees. At first, Emilie couldn't tell what it was. It drew closer, however all she could tell was that the figure was a person. Male or female, it was too dark to see. A pair of blue eyes, just like hers, beckoned in the distance. The demon kissing her neck froze where he was. He turned his head towards the figure. His black hair bristled against her neck. She found herself frozen once more. Emilie couldn't move again. A fog moved in on her mind and she suddenly felt exhausted and so very tired. Her eye-lids began to droop. The weight of the demon was lifted off of her and she could remember no more after that. Just before she drifted off into a deep sleep, a pair of black boots, shiny and round stood in front of her face a few inches from her face. The last thing she felt was a pair of warm arms picking her up and then everything went black._


	92. Chapter 88

Tempest opened her eyes slowly, wincing at the bright sunlight pouring in from the window on her right. Her vision was blurry for a few moments, but with some time they quickly adjusted. She found herself in her bedroom. She half-expected to find herself in the bedroom of her foster home or that of her childhood and everything she had seen and done was just a dream. She lowered the nightgown she was wearing and saw the sickle-shaped scar on her chest.

It was no dream.

Her arm felt numb, mainly in the shoulder. She found a scar there too, a small jagged line marring her shoulder. Looking around, she found herself in a brand new bed. A four-poster bed with dark gray curtains. The posts of the bed were of a dark, cherry-wood carved smoothly and evenly. She reached out her good arm, touching the curtain lightly. The curtain felt very fine and rich.

Taking a deep breath, Tempest smelled the rich, vibrant floral scent permeating the air. It was thick. The floral scent was everywhere. It wasn't perfume. No. In truth, her room smelled like a flower shop. From her position, lying down on her back, she couldn't see anything at all. Using her good arm, Tempest pulled herself up into a sitting position on the bed. It was then that she found out why her room smelled like flowers. Lying in her bed, she could not see the bouquets lining her dresser and desk. There must have been at least half a dozen potted flora and fauna in her room. Red roses, Easter lilies, daisies, violets. It looked like a hospital room or a funeral parlor. She had never seen so many of them before, not before her mother's funeral that is.

The bedroom door swung open. Beatrix walked in with a gloomy look on her face. She saw Tempest sitting up in bed and her face immediately lit up. Her green eyes sparkled even. She ran out of the room, unexpectedly. However, her voice carried out from very far away.

"She's awake!" The grim reaper excitedly yelled at the top of her lungs.

Tempest leaned back a little more against the headboard. She touched her wounded shoulder.

"Just how long have I been sleeping?"

* * *

The ticking of the grandfather clock did nothing but aggravate Ciel. Here he was sipping tea with his two guests, Undertaker, who refused to leave until Tempest regained consciousness, and, oddly enough, William T. Speares, while the aforementioned lady remained in a coma. Nothing more could be done about her strange condition. It had been two whole weeks since the 'Ravencraft Theater Incident' and she remained unconscious. Tempest was barely conscious when her wounds were being treated. No sooner had Sebastian finished with the one on her chest, she slipped away. Modern medicine proved ineffective. Her condition couldn't even be explained by Undertaker.

When he heard of the incident over the phone with Beatrix, he couldn't understand it. It wasn't until after Sebastian had shown him the wash cloths used to clean up the wounds that the old grim reaper was able to understand. The stains couldn't be removed, no matter what Sebastian did. He held onto them just a while longer in order show Undertaker the cause of the unwashable stains. All of this occurred before Undertaker tried to break Beatrix's neck in half. Only with a lot of explaining and persuasion were they able to get him to release Beatrix.

The worst part was yet to come. If and when she ever recovered, there was the not-so-small matter of telling her about Jacobi, the young witch she had quickly become attached to. It was two days after the _incident _did they discover his fate and that of the witch who was partially responsible for the whole bloody affair in the first place.

Ciel sipped his tea in silence. William glared at him and Undertaker ate bone-shaped cookies quietly as possible. There was so much tension in the room that one could cut it with a knife. It had been like this for days now. Something had to be done, for the sake of Tempest's health and well-being. Arguments ensued, naturally and Ciel had lost a few treasures. Antiques mainly. Ciel blamed the demon, Alessandra. William blamed Ciel. And Undertaker took no sides at all. His lack of opinion was the most terrifying factor of all. His silence worried Ciel, for in his silence he could have been plotting Ciel's execution, for all the demon knew. There was a particular frightening look in his eye, a sheen in his green eyes that caused a shiver down Ciel's own spine. On top of that, he didn't even have his hat with him. Ciel learned from experience that when Undertaker was without it, things were serious.

Beatrix ran in and disturbed them. She had been wearing a sad expression for the past two weeks. Her concern for Tempest was expected. But when she ran in, her face had changed. Her green eyes were flashing and she wore a smile on her face. Ciel rose to his feet.

"She's awake."

"Yes," Beatrix couldn't contain her joy and relief.


	93. Chapter 89

The bedroom door was swung open. Tempest half-expected everyone to run in all at once, but they were all surprisingly calm and collected. Undertaker immediately went to her side.

"Let me take a look," he pointed one of his bony fingers to her shoulder.

Tempest reached up and pulled down the nightgown just enough for him to see. The jagged mark marred her shoulder. Lillian didn't just sink her knife there. She twisted it so that the scapular and the clavicle bone would receive damage. Her scar was dark pink in color.

"How is your arm?" Undertaker was behaving like a normal father.

"It's a little numb." Tempest answer squeezing her fingers into her palm.

Undertaker grasped her hands in his.

"And how are you?"

Tempest didn't say anything. She looked around the room, looking for answers. Physically, she was okay, despite her injuries. Psychologically speaking, it was a different story. Something felt different. She hadn't thought about that night in the longest time. Why would she suddenly remember now of all times?

Undertaker noticed the change in her face. He could see the wheels turning in her head. Her brows were furrowed; she was deep in thought. He cleared his throat. Tempest shook her head a little, snapping out of her daydream.

"Never better," she replied. She doubted anyone would believe her. She couldn't even convince herself.

Tempest looked around the room, spotting William T. Speares, standing like an up-tight social worker. His jaw was clenched tightly.

"What's he doing here?" Tempest could not help but sound a little perturbed at his unwanted presence. Their last encounter wasn't a pleasant one.

Pushing up his glasses, "I'm here for your transfer. I am to escort you and your father back home."

Tempest found Ciel half way across the room. His head was hung low so that his bangs covered his eyes. He didn't say anything. Not a word, which frightened her. This couldn't be real. They couldn't possibly be considering taking her away from New York City, her home, the only home she never knew. They couldn't be that crazy. The idea of it was so absurd, Tempest chuckled, but it was weak.

"A transfer? What are you talking about?" Tempest tried to stay calm. She kept her voice low, but on the inside she was screaming.

"Mr. Speares will be helping you relocate to Great Britain, to the village your father lives. You'll be safer there." Ciel finally answered her question.

The blood in her veins froze. She wrenched her hands away from Undertaker. Her blue eyes burned like small embers as she glared at Ciel.

"Is this some sort of macho thing? Is this because I saved you from getting hurt? Are you sending me away because I was tired of playing damsel in distress?" Tempest's voice rose higher.

He didn't answer at first. His silence only drove her further on her rampage.

"No one forced me to do that for you! I made the decision myself. I got injured because of my own mistake."

"Don't argue with them, please!" Ciel suddenly raised his voice. He raised his head. They glared at each other from across the room. He had never raised his voice at her.

"So you're exiling me from my own hometown because _you_ all think I'll be safer? And when were you going to include in this decision? You're not making me move anywhere. I'm a grown woman and I'm telling you now that I'm not going anywhere." Her heart was pounding inside her chest. Tempest had never felt so angry in her life. Blood pumped loudly in her ears and wrists. She could feel the throbbing as easily as she could feel her anger about boil over.

They couldn't make her leave, no matter what they said or did.

"Please, be reasonable, Miss...Stayne. You can't stay here any longer. The danger is too much." Speares spoke up.

Tempest turned her fiery gaze at him now.

"New York has one of the highest population rate in the country. I can blend in. How is it any safer in a small village?

"Your father will be there to protect..."

Tempest cut him off, "Don't you dare say it! I already said that I'm done playing the damsel in distress. I want to fight for myself. I don't want anyone people to _protect me_."

Speares turned to Ciel and then back to Tempest.

"Ciel drew the attention of the mad witch by using her adoptive son. By doing that, she and the demoness, Alessandra, formed an alliance, one that ended in the death of seven humans and injured dozens more in the scramble to escape the blood bath. You are out of a career. Your face is plastered all over the internet and the boy is dead. He stopped the witch by burning down her home, while was still inside. Do you understand now?"

Tempest felt her heart skip a beat. He burned himself alive? That couldn't be right. Nothing was real anymore. She must still be dreaming. Tempest pinched her good arm. It stung. What hurt worse was the painful sting of loss. Jacobi, the beautiful little boy, had a way about him. His smile, his laugh. He was so shy, yet he had grown on her in such a short time. Now, he was gone. Like everyone else in her life, taken away just when things were looking up.

Covering her eyes with her hand, she began sobbing silently. The trauma was too much. Everything was being decided for her. Nothing belonged to her anymore. They had already decided her fate for her. She felt her father's hand touch her shoulder. Tempest moved out of his way.

"I don't want to look at any of you right now. Just get out, please. Leave me alone."

Tempest's eyes were closed tightly. She couldn't look at them, any of them. They were forcing her to move away from the one place she knew she belonged. This was where she was born and raised. This was where her mother was buried. New York was all she knew. Their footsteps solemnly obeyed her wishes. Three sets of feet marched quietly out the door. She waited until the door was closed behind them before crying into her hand.

Her throat hurt. It burned as she wept. The tears became like rivers down her face. She had plenty to cry over.

Why wasn't Ciel fighting harder? Why didn't he stand up for her? Was this his idea? Did he finally lose interest in her, after all they'd been through and what she did for him?

Her sadness turned to anger. She could only see his face behind her eyes and his image only stirred up more anger.

"If that's the way you want it, fine." She said bitterly, not even drying her tears. "You don't have to worry about little old me anymore."


	94. Chapter 90

Tempest trudged down the grand stair case for the last time. Her left arm was tucked into a sling. In her other hand, she carried one of her lighter bags. Beatrix helped with the rest. Tempest looked around the foyer, not finding the familiar blue-eyed demon. It wasn't surprising. He refused to see her for the past two days. They gave her that time to recover a while longer. Ciel locked himself in his study, refusing to see anyone beside his butler. In a way, Tempest was grateful was acting like a spoiled brat. Quite frankly, she didn't want to see him either. But that was a lie, a big, fat lie. She had hoped to see him at least once before she left. He could have at least seen her off. Instead, he hid in his library, doing who knows what. Perhaps he was staring out the window, watching her leave for good.

A black limo was waiting outside for them. The luggage was hauled into the trunk. Speares stood by the car door, watching tentatively. Sebastian came behind Beatrix, grabbing the luggage away from her. He gave her one of his famous closed-eyed smiles.

"Allow me." He lifted them with ease and carried them by himself.

They were promptly packed in the back. The trunk was firmly closed, the metallic sound it made sent a painful shock wave to Tempest's heart. The butler opened the car door despite Speares' warning glare. He slid in first, then Tempest, who could barely look at him, and then Beatrix. But before the grim reaper could get into the car, Sebastian grabbed her arm and pulled her close.

"Don't disappoint me. I leave her in your care, Miss Bathory." Then he slipped something heavy into her pocket.

Beatrix tried to reach in to see what it was, but his hand pulled it back. He shook his head playfully, saying, "Not just yet. Give it to her when the moment is right."

"What is it?" Beatrix touched the pocket from the outside. The mysterious object sitting at the bottom of her pocket felt like a soft velvet and was square in shape.

"A present from the young master to Miss Tempest."

Speares reared his ugly head out of the car. "Get in now, Bathory, or you can find your own ride."

Beatrix sighed heavily.

"This is good bye, then. Don't break too many hearts, Sebby." She added with a bitter-sweet chuckle.

She found Sebastian's gloved hands wrapping around her waist and his lips crashing against hers. Beatrix dug her nails into his neck, hoping to leave a mark. Even if she said she hated the man's guts, there was no way she was going to let him forget her so easily.

The kiss broke off rather quickly. Beatrix pulled away and slipped inside, her hands reluctant to release him. She smirked at William, who was red in the face.

"Never seen a grown woman kiss before, Mr. Penguin?" Beatrix leaned back in her seat, arms folded across her chest, as the limousine was thrown into a drive.

"You disgust me." William replied curtly.

"I'd like to say good-bye to my mom, if you don't mind." Tempest easily broke the tension.

William sighed, exasperated. "I suppose that's possible."

* * *

Sebastian knocked on the young master's library door. He stood at his window, staring out at the streets beneath him, even long after the car had disappeared from view. He said nothing and did nothing. His blue eye glued to the street.

"The box was delivered as ordered, sir."

Ciel made no reply. He didn't even move an inch or turn to acknowledge Sebastian's presence in the room.

"Might I be so bold as to ask a question, sir?"

There was only silence.

"You seemed to have given up rather quickly, sir. You do not seem to me the same young master of yesteryear. You would have fought harder for her, would you not, if Speares had not mentioned the catalyst of the Ravencraft incident? Do you believe that her injuries are a direct result of your decisions?"

Ciel tossed Sebastian a deadly glance.

"That is too bold." He stated bluntly, then returned to gazing out the window.

Sebastian bowed from the waist with his right hand over his heart.

"Begging your pardon, my lord."

* * *

Tempest looked down at her mother's tombstone. Someone had replaced all of the flowers with fresh ones.

_Must have been Dad,_ she thought.

Looking at the inscription on the cold monument, Tempest felt her throat close up. But there were things she had to say before leaving her. There was one last thing she had to do before saying good-bye to her mother.

"Mom, I have to leave now. Whether you can hear me or not, I want you to know that your sacrifice was not in vain. I didn't get far, but at least I tried. And if...if," she continue without falling to her knees. Her knees had been buckling since she first entered the cemetery. "If I ever come back, I'll be even stronger. This town hasn't seen the last of me."

_One more song. Sing one last song for her._

"Feeling...broken, barely...holding on. But there's just something so strong somewhere inside me. And I am down, but I'll get up again. Don't count me out just yet! I've been brought down to my knees and I've been pushed right past the point of breaking, but I can take it. I'll be back, back on my feet. This is far from over. You haven't seen the last of me. You haven't seen the last of me."

"They can say that... I won't stay around, but I'm goin' stand my ground. You're not going stop me. You don't know me. You don't know who I am. Don't count me out so fast! I've been brought down to my knees. And I've been pushed right the point of breaking but I cant take it. I'll be back, back on my feet. This is far from over. You haven't seen the last of me. There will be no fade out. This is not the end. I'm down but I'll be standing tall again. Times are hard, but I was built tough. I'm going to show you all what I'm made of. I've been brought down to my knees. I've been pushed past the right past the point of breaking, but I can take it. I'll be back, back on my feet. This is far from over. I am far from over. You haven't seen the last of me."

The tears rolled off her cheeks. Tempest wiped them away quickly with her sleeve. She picked herself up with her right arm only.

"They haven't seen the last of me," she whispered sadly as the wind blew against her air.

It was autumn. The yellowing trees rustled, shaking colorful leaves until they fell softly to the ground. Tempest gave her mother's grave one last look. She'd be back before long. Tempest could feel that it in gut.


	95. Epilogue

Epilogue

Ciel marched silently over the leaf covered grass of the cemetery. In his arms, he carried a bouquet of red roses. Sebastian was behind, as always. The wind picked up and made his coat billow dramatically behind him.

They marched on until they came to the grave, Christina's. Ciel placed the bouquet on the ground. His flowers were not the only ones marking the spot. He found lilies, which were out of season, and some yellow carnations. He paused in his thoughts. The other flowers made him wonder who else was leaving them behind. Tempest was three-thousand miles away. It was quite the mystery, but not something that should have concerned him. He came here merely to serve as a substitute. Christina McIntyre had no relatives who would remember her. Her so-called friends didn't seem to recall her very well. Her mother was dead and her father was very ill. Her brother was still in prison.

Just before he turned to leave, something hiding amid the flowers caught his eye. It was a wooden box with a note tied to lid. It shouldn't have concerned him, as was said earlier. But something bothered him. He bent down, picking up the small chest. He silently beckoned Sebastian to his side.

The chest was presented to him and the butler held it carefully as Ciel untied the note.

It was an ordinary envelope with a piece of folded paper inside. The flap wasn't even glued down. It had merely been folded down so that the end was tucked neatly inside. The paper was removed with great care. The ink was black and the penmanship appeared old-fashioned. The letters were scrawled with a delicate, feminine touch. It wasn't an ordinary note or letter, but a poem.

"'The old trunk in the attic, where Mother's broken heart was tossed in a box with ballet shoes...and dead soldiers clothes. The old trunk in the attic with candles saved from the girl at the Market, who was once paid to go away. The old trunk in the attic with a dress for a child, hardly worn, stained in the memory and tears for a name you never learned.'"

"My lord?" Sebastian had opened the chest, pulling out an infant's baptism gown.

Was this the garment the letter spoke of?

Ciel ran his gloved hands over the material. It appeared old. The whiteness had faded into a dingy color, like aged parchment. There were darker water marks as if someone spilled something on it or used it to dry their eyes.

"What shall we do with these? Whoever left them here clearly meant for Miss Tempest to retrieve them."

Ciel stuffed the gown back into the chest.

"Do whatever you like with it. It is...not my concern really. If you see fit, send it to her." He handed Sebastian the letter.

The butler nodded and placed the letter neatly inside the chest before closing it.


End file.
